﻿Mad Monday

by Pan



Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2021-08-28
Packaged: 2024-02-16 22:34:58
Chapters: 61
Words: 70,620
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/MadMonday/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: After swapping bodies with their teenage daughter, Andrew’s wife finds it hard to handle the hormones.
Erotica Tags: in, mc, mf





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Epilogue



	Chapter 1

I woke up to find my teenage daughter perched on the edge of my bed, an unusual look on her face.

“Andrew,” she said solemnly, “we have to talk.”

I tried to simultaneously yawn and shoot her a stern glance—not an easy move at the best of times, but particularly difficult when you’re just waking up.

“Belle, you shouldn’t call me that.”

For the last few years, my daughter’s behavior has been spiraling, and so I tried to sound as authoritative as I could.

“Andrew,” she said again, “it’s me.

“It’s Mary.”

I froze. What game was Belle playing at?

“Belle, it’s too early for this. Go and get ready for school.”

“Andrew, I’m serious. It’s me—your wife, Mary.”

I mentally scanned through all of the children behavioral books I’d been reading lately…there had definitely been no mention of what to do when your rebellious teenage daughter pretends to be your wife, and so I wasn’t really sure how to proceed.

“Belle, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but we don’t have time for this. Go and see if your brother’s awake.”

“Ben’s awake, honey. I checked on him before I came in here. And it turns out he listens to what his sister says far more than his mother, which I suppose shouldn’t surprise me.”

I paused, lost for words. Obviously my daughter was lying to me, but at the same time…there was something odd about the cadence of her speech. She really did sound like my wife.

“Now look, I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but it really is me. Ask me any question that I’d know and our daughter wouldn’t.”

Should I play along with Belle’s strange game? Obviously what she was saying was impossible…but I couldn’t resist.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “What…what color were the roses at our wedding?”

“Red,” Belle answered immediately, rolling her eyes. “Honey, I love you, but you’re really not very good at this. First of all, there’s photos of them all over the house, and secondly…they were red. Wouldn’t be hard to guess that one. No, ask something truly personal. Ask something about our sex life.”

“Belle! I am not talking to you about…about that. Now go back…—“

“I’m not Belle,” my daughter repeated, her voice getting slightly higher in her frustration. “Oh dear, I really should have thought this through a little better. Okay, let me…your first kiss was with a girl named Kirsty, our first date was to see Strange Days, which neither of us liked but pretended to because we were nervous, we didn’t have sex until our fourth date, but I went down on you on date number two.”

“Belle! I don’t know what you and your mother have been…—“

“Really? Okay, stuff that you _know_ I would never tell our daughter…I own two bullet vibrators, and you like using them on me after we’ve had sex. You like the way a little bit of your cum squirts out of me every time I twitch. I love it when you scratch my back, and sometimes I’ll go out and buy the cheapest underwear I can find, because we both love it when you tear it off me.”

My mouth fell open as I stared at my daughter.

“…Mary?”

“Yes! Yes, honey, it’s me. Fifteen years ago I lost our daughter in a mall, ten years ago you accidentally stole a thousand dollars from work and then lied about it because you were afraid people would think it was deliberate, and we’re both worried sick that our daughter’s misbehavior is our fault. Do you need anything else?”

“Oh my god, Mary. How…how did you…”

“It’s a woman’s thing, honey. You wouldn’t understand. Nothing else was working, and so I thought it was time for drastic measures. That’s why I slept in the study last night—I didn’t want Belle waking up in my body and waking you up when she freaked out.”

“So…so…”

“Yes, our daughter is in my body and I’m in hers. I think that this will really teach her a bit more about responsibility, and help her understand things from our perspective. It’s only going to be for two weeks…—“

“Two weeks!?”

“Yes, two weeks. I’m sure that we’ll be able to get through whatever she does in my body in that time—she might be going through a rough patch right now, but she really does love us, I’m sure. She won’t do anything to permanently destroy my life…our life…and when we switch back, she’ll be all the better for it.”

“So does…does she know…”

“That I’m in her body? No, and I want to keep it that way. Whenever she’s around, I have to act exactly like her—I’ve been studying up in the last few weeks.”

With that, my daughter…well, my wife in my daughter’s body, at least…slouched, and shot me a glare.

“Sup?” she snarled, and I couldn’t hold back a huge grin.

“Perfect.”

My wife’s smile appeared on my daughter’s face—a strange sight to behold.

“Isn’t it just? I’m no actor, but I’m very pleased with my efforts so far. Anyway, I just came in here to let you know—you have to act normal around her. Around me. Around our daughter in my old body. Do you understand me?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now, she finishes school a few hours before I finish work…except, of course, the other way around now. That will give us time to check in every day. Until then, it’s vitally important that you act as if nothing is odd. Talk to her like you do me—tell her how worried you are about Belle, how much we love her, and how we wish there was something that could be done.

“She’s probably going to suggest that we could never understand, that we don’t listen, all that jazz. Nod along, pretend that she’s presenting really good points, ask her advice—anything to make her think that you don’t know. Meanwhile, I’m going to continue being the terror that our daughter has always been. Any questions?”

I shook my head.

“Crystal clear.”

“Excellent. Like I said, we’ll check in every day. And, uh…”

My daughter’s brow crinkled slightly.

“Don’t, um…”

“What?”

“Don’t kiss her goodnight.”

“Oh!”

I paused, my eyes widening slightly.

“I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“No, until this moment, me neither. In fact, maybe you should suggest that she keeps sleeping in the study. Make up any excuse—I’m sure she’ll be so happy to grasp it, she won’t even question it. It’ll just…”

“Yes, yes.”

“Excellent.”

My daughter’s lips spread so wide, they almost touched her ears.

“Honey, I really think this is going to work.”

“I sure hope so,” I muttered, but my wife’s smile was contagious, and soon I was beaming back at her.

“I sure hope so,” I repeated, much more confidently this time.


	Chapter 2

“Hi Dad…ling. Darling. Hi darling.”

I don’t think my daughter was aware that I knew exactly what she thought of me, and so it was fairly easy to play into that image. I frowned at my iPad as I continued to pretend to read the daily news, and waited for her to try again.

“Good morning darling!”

“Oh, hello honey,” I said, looking up and overplaying my absent-mindedness. Yes, I can be a little absent-minded at times, and yes, I know it drives my daughter crazy.

For once, it was something I could use to my advantage. It’d give me a chance to let Belle grow comfortable with her role as her own mother; I could pretend not to notice anything unusual about her behavior.

“Oh honey,” I said without looking up. “That leak still isn’t fixed—you might have to sleep in the study for a few more nights. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No!”

I couldn’t resist—at the sound of excitement, I looked up, peering over my glasses with an amused smile on my face.

“Oh?”

“I mean, uh…I’m going to miss you, sweetums.”

“You too, pork chop.”

I pretended not to notice the look of disgust on my daughter’s face as I turned back to the newspaper app. ‘Pork chop’ may have been pushing it…but in all fairness, Mary and I had never, ever called each other “sweetums”.

* * *

That afternoon, I was neck-deep in work when Belle came home. Belle’s body, anyway.

“Hi honey!”

“Hey sweetums,” I replied, and laughed as my wife rolled my daughter’s eyes.

“Do you think Ben noticed anything wrong?”

“I’d be surprised. The new Pokemon game is out tomorrow, and I literally don’t think he cares about _anything_ else right now.”

“Awesome.”

I cocked an eyebrow at that, and my daughter stuck her tongue out at me.

“Trying to get the hang of the parlance.”

“Tip number one—I don’t think teens these days say ‘parlance’. How was school?”

“Ugh.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I think that was my wife’s genuine reaction, but it so perfectly mirrored my daughter’s natural response to the question, I momentarily forgot the strange situation we’d gotten ourselves into.

For the next half-hour we chatted about Belle’s social circles, her grades, her status at school. I wasn’t able to offer much in the way of useful plans, but I’ve always been a good listener, and I could tell my wife felt much better once she’d vented about the problems in our daughter’s life, and started constructing the first steps of a plan.

“Of course, none of it will work if Belle can’t use what I’ve made for her and take advantage of her improved circumstances.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway, I have…well, I have something strange to tell you.”

“Stranger than what we’re doing now?”

My wife laughed—again, it was so strange, hearing those familiar peals of laughter coming out of my daughter’s mouth. They were younger, higher-pitched. You don’t think of someone’s laughter changing over the years, but it reminded me of how she’d laughed when we’d first met.

“I guess not. Did you know that our daughter has a boyfriend?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I sat straight in my seat.

“Oh?” I said, and even I could hear the sense of danger in my voice.

“Yes, and I think he might be part of the reason we’ve seen such drastic changes in our daughter lately.”

“What’s his name?”

“Spike.”

I snorted.

“I know. But I think he might be trouble.”

“So break up with him.”

“Right. Yes. Obviously.”

Belle’s eyes looked away, refusing to meet my gaze.

“What? What is it?”

She bit her lip.

“Spit it out, honey.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m talking to my 40-year old wife who’s currently in my teenage daughter’s body. I think things are as uncomfortable as they’re going to get.”

“Well…you promise this won’t get weird?”

“I promise it can’t grow much weirder.”

“Okay.”

My daughter took a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting the hormones.”

I paused I processed what she was saying.

“What?”

“I mean…it’s been so long, honey. Do you remember what it was like being a teenager?”

My eyes widened.

“Oh!”

“Yeah.”

We sat there in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds. Clearly, I’d been wrong—there was room for things to get much, much weirder.

Despite it being more than twenty years ago, I distinctly remembered my teenage years. I must have spent more time masturbating than eating, and I had been a big eater.

“Spike is…well, he’s hot.”

“Honey, he’s a teenager!”

“I know! Do you think I don’t know that? But I’m in…here.”

My wife gestured to our daughter’s body.

“And as long as I’m in here, I can’t look at him without wondering what he looks like naked. I have spent more time today imagining teenage cocks than I ever have—I didn’t even think about that kind of stuff when I was a teenager!”

I’d been my wife’s first—Mary was raised in a religious household, and she’d once told me that she hadn’t started masturbating until we’d been married for four years.

She’d assured me that was a compliment.

“So…”

My daughter sighed, as if the weight of the world was on her teenage shoulders. It would have been funny, if I wasn’t aware of the context.

“I’ll break up with Spike. Of course I’ll break up with Spike; it’s the obviously correct thing to do. I just…”

Again, that comically out-of-place sigh.

“I just hadn’t realized that Belle’s hormones were so…powerful.”

I nodded. We’d gone right past uncomfortable, and I had nothing useful to offer.

We sat there in silence for a few more seconds, until I noticed the pink on Belle’s face.

“Honey?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re blushing.”

“Oh! Oh, I was just thinking…”

I gulped. By the way that my daughter’s eyes were again darting around the room, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what was about to follow.

“God, please don’t be weird about this.”

“I’ll try not to,” I said gently.

“I just…I’m going to go and grab those two bullets from my dressing-table, okay?”

My eyes widened, and I nodded slowly, trying desperately not to think about what that meant.


	Chapter 3

For the rest of the night, I continued to act as if everything was normal. I was trying desperately not to think about what Mary had told me about Belle’s…hormones…but it was a difficult concept to get out of my head.

Eventually, instead of trying to block it out entirely, I started trying to think about the positives. Now that our daughter was in her mother’s body, perhaps that would help her calm down—my wife and I have a healthy sex-life, but she has her hormones well and truly under control. Hopefully that would help Belle get a bit more control over herself.

Belle had clearly tried to imitate her mother’s makeup that morning, and gone a bit overboard. A part of me wondered if anyone at her office had noticed—Mary works in customer relations, so (without being disrespectful to my wife’s work) I was sure that Belle could bluff her way through her mother’s job for a few weeks; it didn’t require any particular technical knowledge, and our daughter has a good head on her shoulders.

And a body filled with hormones, it turned out.

After “the kids” had gone to bed, Belle and I chatted for a while—she asked a lot of questions about her own job, and I answered them as if nothing was odd about her asking if I knew where she kept her phone codes. I didn’t bring up our daughter’s truancy or rebellion problems: we had two weeks, and I wanted to be subtle.

We went to our separate rooms, and after an hour of laying awake and staring at the ceiling, I eventually drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

I was awoken the next morning by my PJ-clad daughter, laying beneath the covers with me, smiling.

“Good morning, honey.”

“Belle! I mean…Mary! What’re you doing? You know I sleep naked.”

“It didn’t seem to bother you yesterday.”

“Yes, but you were…out there. You weren’t…in here, with me.”

“Oh come on, Andrew. It’s not like it isn’t anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Yes,” I hissed, “but that’s…not…not while you’ve been…”

“Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I just…”

She trailed off, and that slight blush returned.

“What?”

“Jesus, I have no idea how teenagers do it. I feel like my every thought is spelled out on my forehead.”

“For the love of god, Mary, what do you want? What if someone comes in?”

That young laugh again, familiar but different.

“I can assure you, there’s no chance our teenage daughter is going to come in and risk seeing her father’s phallus. And there’s even _less_ chance that Ben is going to care about anything for the next few weeks that can’t be caught in a pokéball.”

“So what do you want?”

“I just…”

Again, she trailed off. In a much softer tone, I prompted her again.

“What?”

“I just wanted a cuddle.”

The realization that my wife was lonely made my heart melt, and I reached out.

“Come here, honey.”

For the next fifteen minutes we cuddled and chatted, her head on my chest, my arms wrapped lovingly around her. I shut my eyes, tried to ignore the pitch of her voice, and tried to pretend this was just a normal morning conversation with my wife.

* * *

That afternoon, I was woken up from a mid-afternoon nap by Belle storming through the door.

“What?” I spluttered, sitting up. “What is it?”

My daughter’s face was streaked with tears, her cheeks were red, and her eyes were puffy. Forgetting for a moment the unusual situation we’d found ourselves in, I held out my arms.

“Come here, Belle-drop.”

She threw herself into my arms and sobbed for a few minutes. I held her comfortingly and my brain continued to wake up, reminding me that I was being used as a tissue by my wife, not my daughter.

“What happened, honey?” I asked softly.

“I did it,” came the muffled reply. “I broke up with Spike.”

“Oh…”

For a moment, a flicker of worry flew through my brain. I dismissed it instantly, of course—a teenager was no threat to my strong, healthy, 20-year marriage.

“So…why are you crying?”

“He was so _mean_ ,” my wife bawled into my arms. “He laughed when I tried to break up with him, and then said that he’d been fucking another slut cos I wouldn’t put out.”

I took a moment. That was a lot of information to process at once.

“Our daughter’s a virgin.”

“I suppose,” Sarah sniffled. “I’m impressed, to be honest. I’ve never felt so turned on—even after I got myself off four times last ni…—“

“La la la la!”

“What?”

“Honey, I _really_ don’t want to hear about that kind of thing.”

“Oh come on,” she said, pulling away and looking up at me balefully. “You’ve never minded hearing about it before.”

“Yes, when it was _you_ in _your_ body. I don’t want to hear about my daughter…doing…”

I made a face and trailed off. A half-smile appeared on Belle’s face.

“So you would be okay hearing about what our daughter is doing in _my_ body.”

My eyes widened, and I answered without hesitation.

“ _Nope._ ”

My wife giggled, something that I don’t remember her doing for almost half a decade. I smiled down at her.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Thanks.”

“Anything you need, honey. This is a weird situation, and we’re going to get through it together.”

“Thanks,” she smiled back. “I can’t believe our daughter was dating such a jerk. More than that, I can’t believe how much his words got to me. I feel so fragile—I’m gonna go have a little nap, okay?”

I didn’t say anything as she left. She wasn’t wrong, when she’d described her face as an open book.

My wife wasn’t going upstairs for a nap. She was going upstairs to…

I sighed, went back to my office, and tried very hard to think about something else. ANYTHING else.


	Chapter 4

The next day, as soon as my wife finished school in my daughter’s body, she bounded into my office where I was finishing up some contracts.

“Hey honey,” I said without looking up. She hadn’t come into my room that morning, and I hadn’t seen her at breakfast. For a moment, I’d even forgotten about the swap that my wife had orchestrated and wondered if Belle had returned to her old ways.

There was no response, and I turned to see Belle standing there, her hands twisting together nervously, my wife’s eyes peering out at me from my daughter’s face.

“What’s up?” I asked warily.

“I…”

She stopped abruptly, and threw herself face-down onto the couch. From between the cushions, I heard a muffled “Oh, god…”

“What is it? Honey, what’s wrong?”

I sat down on the couch next to my daughter’s prone body, and put one arm on her shoulder. She shrugged it off; a move totally foreign to my wife, but one _very_ familiar from my daughter.

Had it worn off? Had they swapped back, twelve days early?

What was happening?

“Honey? …Belle?”

“No,” the muffled voice replied. “It’s still Mary.”

“What the hell’s happened?”

She rolled over, and looked up at me with big, sad eyes.

“Honey, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.”

My mind started racing with potential problems and their solutions. If she was struggling with school, we could take her out for a few weeks. If she missed her friends, we could…they were trustworthy, surely? Maybe we could explain to a few of them what had happened.

I mentally ran through a dozen different possibilities before my wife continued.

“I…oh god, this is so embarrassing!”

She flipped back over, and buried her head in the cushions once more.

“Honey, I promise—whatever it is, I’m not going to judge you.”

“Yes you are!” came the muted reply.

“Stick a needle in my eye, I’m not.”

My wife rolled over again, revealing a solemn look on her blushing face.

“Honey, this is the strangest thing I’m ever, ever going to ask you, and I want you to promise that you’re not going to hate me for it.”

“Of course,” I urged. “What’s wrong??”

“I…”

Another sigh, and for a second I thought I’d lost her, and she was just going to hide her face in the couch again. Her blush deepened, and her response was so quiet I couldn’t make out the words.

“What?”

“I…”

There it was again, that whispered response.

“Honey, if I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t help.”

“…I want to make out.”

I felt like I’d just been slapped. I stood up in shock, and at the strength of my reaction, a tear appeared in my daughter’s eye and began rolling down her face.

My mouth was suddenly dry, and it felt like it took a few minutes before I could gather up enough saliva to reply.

“W…what?”

“Oh god, I told you that you’d hate me.”

“Honey, I don’t hate you. I just…I just don’t understand.”

“It’s the hormones, Andrew, it’s these damned hormones! I couldn’t tell you the full of it because I didn’t want to admit it myself, I didn’t want to weird you out. There’s no way you can understand—it’s like there’s a thousand ants running around my body at all times.”

“I mean, I was a teenager…—“

“No,” she interrupted in a whine. “You don’t _understand_. When you’re a teenager it’s all abstract, it’s all just ideas. I _know_. I _know_ what it’s like to be fucked so hard that you lose count of your orgasms, I _know_ what it’s like to cum around the cock of the man you love.”

I blinked twice, taken aback by the crude words coming out of my teenage daughter’s mouth.

“I know what it’s like to be truly sexually satisfied…and I know what it’s like to be touched. Oh god, Andrew, please…I just want to be _touched_.”

“Honey,” I stammered. “I can’t. I…you know I can’t. I just can’t.”

She sighed, and threw her head back.

“I know! I know it’s weird! God, don’t you think I know it’s weird? But I spent all day today surrounded by teenagers, knowing that every one of them was going through the same thing as me. All of them are craving to be touched, are just desperately wanting to feel a pair of hands on their skin, to feel wanted…”

My wife sat up abruptly, and gestured to our daughter’s body.

“And I know we’ve never talked about it, but none of this would be a problem if Belle wasn’t hot. Honey, our daughter is _gorgeous_. It just makes it worse—with a word, with a gesture, I could convince any one of those greasy, sweaty teens to take me into the supply closet. I could have their hands on my body, I could have my hands on their cock…”

She slumped back again, and I realized my mouth had gone dry once more.

“I love you,” she said quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, and I never want to be with anyone else. I never, never, never want to cheat on you. But it’s _cruel_ , telling me I can’t have you and then surrounding me with sick temptations. If I have to spend another day around all those boys, around all those cocks…”

Her eyes glazed over slightly at that last word, before she swallowed and continued.

“…then I genuinely don’t know if I can resist.”

Mary sighed, swung her legs around to the side of the couch, and looked me dead in the eye.

“I know how weird this is for you. I know how weird this is for both of us. But if you don’t kiss me, if you don’t touch me…I’m going to go mad. Please. Shut your eyes and pretend I’m me, but just…I need to make out.

“I need to feel wanted.

“Please?”


	Chapter 5

I stared at my wife for what seemed like an eternity.

Intellectually, I knew she was my wife.

But it felt a lot like I was staring at my daughter.

My daughter, who had just asked me to make out with her.

No. No. It was Mary asking to make out, not Belle.

Mary and I had a healthy, active sex-life. Between her bullet vibrators and our shared passion for the other’s body, we’d never been left wanting.

Once or twice, just to mix things up, we’d even engaged in some role-play. For our fifteenth wedding anniversary, I’d ‘picked her up’ from a hotel bar. Neither of us had been able to refrain from smiling as we clumsily exchanged fake names, but we’d otherwise gotten into our characters.

Maybe I could treat this like that.

Yes, that was the ticket. If I thought of this not as…my daughter. If I instead treated this like a costume my wife was wearing, a game we were playing.

I took a deep breath.

…

I couldn’t do it.

I loved my wife. I loved my daughter. But I had never, ever thought of my daughter in a sexual light. Yes, I’d known that her body was blooming, that she was growing up. Objectively, I was even aware that she was stunning.

But I’d never considered her a sexual creature, on any level.

I couldn’t start now.

“Honey, I can’t.”

“I need it,” my wife urged, speaking through our daughter’s teenage lips. Her voice was dripping with lust; I could practically feel the heat radiating off her.

It was a tone I was extremely familiar with, but not coming from Belle’s innocent face.

“Honey…”

“Please,” she pleaded, and when I hesitated, leaned forward and planted her lips on mine.

My eyes widened with shock, and I froze.

For the next half-minute, I experienced something I hadn’t expected (or wanted) to experience—the taste of my daughter’s soft lips on mine, her hands on my chest, and the vibrations of her chest as she silently groaned with need.

I didn’t react. I couldn’t. Like a mouse staring down a snake, I was unable to move.

Finally, in response to my total lack of response, she pulled away.

“Andrew, darling…—”

“Mary,” I interrupted. “This isn’t fair.”

As I saw Belle’s eyes darken, I knew immediately that I’d said the wrong thing.

“Fair?” she hissed, another tone I was altogether too familiar with. “ _Fair_? Honey, let me tell you about fair.”

Oh dear.

“This morning, I woke up from a dream that I was being taken by the entire football team. I climaxed _four times_ before bed to try to avoid sex dreams. It didn’t work!”

I wanted desperately to cover my ears, but I had an inkling that wouldn’t be well-received. My wife needed me; the least I could do was listen.

“I woke up dripping; all I wanted was to roll over to my loving husband and ride him to an early morning orgasm. But I couldn’t.”

“I know…” I said soothingly, but Mary was having none of that. She continued, in a zealous tone that I’d never before heard coming from my daughter’s mouth.

“Do you know why I couldn’t? Because I’m doing this for our daughter. For us. For our family.”

“And I appreciate it…” I said softly, but Mary continued without pause.

“Instead, I got off twice. Twice! And then I got dressed and went to school. School! School, Andrew!”

I nodded.

“I’m forty years old, and I’m in _high school_. And oh my word…you don’t remember, Andrew, you really don’t. You think you do, but you have no idea. They treat the children like animals, herding them from room to room, needing to ask permission to go the bathroom. And the teachers…the teachers! They drone on and on and on about dates, molecules, conjugation. _And no one cares_ , Andrew. The students don’t care, the teachers don’t care. Why do we make them sit through this for thirteen years?”

“I think…—“

My wife interrupted me before I could respond, sparks flying from her eyes.

“Rhetorical, Andrew! Rhetorical. I don’t know any of our daughter’s friends, and from what I’ve seen of them, I don’t care to. So I sit in classes, trying desperately to pay attention to concepts I learned thirty years ago, with no one to talk to, with nothing to occupy me. Yes yes, it teaches patience, it builds character—I already have patience! I already have character!”

“You do,” I said, and the teenage girl in front of me took a deep breath.

“So do you know what I do all day?”

“Tell me,” I said. “Tell me what you do all day.”

“I think about you. I think about you, Andrew.”

My smile was genuine.

“Honey, that’s so…—“

She held up one hand.

“I think about you pounding into me. I imagine you bending me over and railing me. Taking me up against the classroom wall, on the teacher’s desk. I imagine _this_ …”

My daughter’s hand squeezed my cock, making me jump.

“…in _here_ …

I deliberately avoided looking down to see where my daughter’s other hand was.

“And it makes me happy. It gets me through the day.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Because if I didn’t, Andrew, if I didn’t spend my day remembering all the times you’ve made me cum my brains out, I would go crazy. I would go crazy, and I would follow my instincts. And I know from watching our daughter for the last few years—these instincts are not to be trusted. Do you know what my instincts are telling me?”

I did, but was very interested in not following that train of thought.

“My instincts are telling me to get out of there, to find Spike, and to show him that he didn’t need any other fucking sluts.”

“Language!”

“He wouldn’t need any other _fucking sluts_ , my dear, because I would be able to show him what twenty years of experience has taught me about pleasing a man. I would choke on his cock, I would have him cum in my ass, I would wrap my body around him so tight…—”

“Sweetie,” I interrupted, trying desperately to change the subject. “Please. You know I…”

One of my daughter’s fingers made its way to my lip, and I fell silent.

“I know. Believe me, I know. But this isn’t about you. It can’t be. This is about me, and this is about our daughter. I’m lonely, she’s horny, and this is the only way I can think of to avoid doing anything we’ll both regret.

“So please. Do whatever you need to do. Shut your eyes, pretend I’m somebody else. Anything you need. Just…kiss me.”

I nodded, and for the second time in my life, I felt my daughter’s lips meet my own.


	Chapter 6

It wasn’t easy.

That was something I could hold onto, at least.

It was a genuine struggle to let myself relax into the kiss. As my daughter’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, as my wife pressed my daughter’s body against mine, it was almost impossible not to shove her away, to scream at her, to remind her that what we were doing was wrong, wrong, wrong.

But her words had left an impact. She needed this.

When Mary had been pregnant, I’d done all that I could to pick up the slack. For months, I was solely and entirely in charge of housework, errands, shopping.

At the end of it, we’d gotten Belle and Ben, and it had been worth every moment of work.

Now, my wife needed me again.

Again, I would do whatever needed to be done.

And so I closed my eyes and—although it went against everything I believed in—returned my daughter’s kiss.

Her lips were soft, softer than her mother’s. Her tongue was delicate, strangely timid, as it ran its way across my lips. And her hands were needy—they ran across my back, occasionally grasping and releasing.

It was such a different experience to kissing my wife, I couldn’t even pretend it was her.

The soft moans coming from her mouth were a higher pitched than my wife’s, and so I used my imagination. I pretended that my wife had a younger sister, and the two of them had decided to share me. It was close enough to my wife that I wouldn’t feel like I was cheating, but distant enough to justify the differences.

I pretended that I had her fictional sister—“Ellen”, I mentally named her—in my arms, and I was able to bring myself to return the kiss.

But as fiercely as I tried to pretend, I couldn’t shake the truth: the body pressing against mine, the saliva I was gingerly tasting, the hands grasping at my back…

They belonged to my teenage daughter.

After ten minutes, Belle’s lips left mine, and she leaned back. Her eyes, so fiery just a few minutes ago, looked as though they were glazed over. Her hair was messy, her clothes were rumpled, and if I’d walked in on her like this a few days ago, I would have furiously started searching the room for a boy.

“Wow,” she gasped. “Andrew. Andrew, that was…”

“Are you okay?”

“Mmmm,” she said, and for the first time in my life, I wished that my wife’s voice wasn’t so expressive.

“Was that what you needed?”

“Yess,” she moaned.

We sat in an awkward silence for several minutes, as I tried to erase the afternoon’s events from my mind, and my wife slowly came back to earth. I watched her straighten up Belle’s hair and clothing, and it wasn’t long before it was impossible to tell that anything had happened.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping into a hug. I’d held my daughter like this before, so many times—her head on my chest, my hand on her hair. It had always made me feel like I was able to protect her, like as long as I could bring her in for a father-daughter cuddle, nothing could ever go wrong. “I really, really needed that.”

“I know,” I said simply, and she smiled and skipped out of the room.

* * *

I was still quite shaken up when my daughter (in my wife’s body) approached me later that night. She had some more questions about her job, but it was clear that I was distracted.

“What’s wrong, honey-buns?” she said, and I pretended not to notice the flicker of disgust on her face as the term passed her lips.

My opportunity was here, and I seized it.

“It’s Belle,” I answered honestly, and—exactly as I expected—she took the bait. Who doesn’t like talking about themselves, after all?

For the next few hours, we spoke about “our daughter”.

It’s hard to say, of course, but I feel like I did a pretty good job. Without being preachy or judgmental, I managed to convey my worries, the potential I saw in Belle. Without being too sappy, I told her how much I loved our baby girl, how I just wanted to be there for her—any way I could.

By the end of the conversation, I felt like I’d really made an impact. She’d started out guarded and defensive, but as she left for the couch in the spare room, I felt like she’d begun to actually understand that her mother and I weren’t doing this to control her, or using her to attempt to correct our teenage mistakes; that we really cared.

In turn, she’d managed to voice some concerns I wasn’t aware of. It was a tricky conversation to have through the layers of subterfuge that we had to navigate, but while playing the role of her own mother, Belle managed to expressed “her daughter”’s fears, her loneliness. Mary hadn’t been imagining it; our daughter genuinely didn’t have any friends she was close with.

No wonder this ‘Spike’ character had managed to get his claws into her. Alone, full of hormones, scared…she must have been easy prey.

What I’d done that afternoon had been wrong, I knew that, and I hadn’t gotten any pleasure out of it.

But if it helped us get through to our daughter, it was absolutely worth it. I’d do anything for Belle. For Mary. For our family.

Anything.


	Chapter 7

“What in God’s name has gotten into you??”

As soon as I saw the look of hurt on my daughter’s face, I knew I shouldn’t have shouted. It had just been totally unexpected.

When Belle’s body had returned home from school that day, I’d been working at my desk. Without warning, she’d entered my office, straddled my lap, and pressed her mouth against mine.

In shock, I’d pushed her away. One minute, my mind had been buried in spreadsheets; the next, my daughter’s tongue was halfway down my throat.

“I just…I just…”

Before I could say anything, before I could apologize, my daughter burst into tears.

Without a word, I put out my hands, and pulled the crying teenage girl onto my lap for a cuddle. As she sobbed onto my shoulder, I wondered what she’d expected my response to be. I knew my wife well enough to know that she wasn’t trying to entrap me, but surely she didn’t expect me to make out with her again, not while she was in our daughter’s body.

After ten minutes of tears, the sobs subsided, and I spoke to her softly.

“Honey…”

“I’m sorry,” she said meekly. I still wasn’t used to it, the mix of my wife’s inflection and my daughter’s tone. “I just…”

“What?” I prompted gently. I regretted the delivery, of course, but my question still stood—what in God’s name _had_ gotten into her?

“I just…oh Andrew, it’s so hard.”

“I know,” I soothed, and with a deep breath, my wife turned to me and continued, using my daughter’s deep blue eyes to stare into mine.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I just…I spent all day thinking about what we did yesterday.”

“I’m glad it helped,” I said, bringing my hand to the side of my daughter’s face. “But you know we can’t do that again. That was just to help. That was a one time thing”

I don’t think Belle’s face could have looked more crushed had I slapped her.

“What?” she asked, crestfallen.

“Honey, I’m glad that I was able to help you, but…think about it. You know we can’t. I can’t.”

“I need it,” she said simply.

“Mary…”

“I do,” she said. All emotion was gone from her voice now; I’d seen my wife like this before. Conflict with her parents, fights with other customers over Black Friday sales, disputes at work.

She only acted like this when she wanted something.

In twenty years of marriage, I’d never seen her fail to get what she wanted. But I wasn’t backing down.

I couldn’t.

“Mary, no. We can’t!”

“Why not?” she said, a suspiciously innocent look in her eyes. I’d seen this before, too.

It was effective. Too effective.

But where she’d been distracted by the haze of teenage lust, I’d spent most of the previous night tossing and turning, fighting off nightmares about what we’d just done.

I’d accidentally spent the night preparing for this battle.

“Firstly,” I said calmly, “because if we get caught, I go to prison. Forever. No matter how careful we are, if _anyone_ suspects a thing, that’s it. Our family is destroyed forever.”

“Okay…” she said, and I could all but see the gears turning in her head.

“Secondly, I can’t. I know that you need it, I truly do. But I simply can’t. Thirdly, we have spent fifteen years teaching our daughter that her body is her own, and that only she gets to choose what happens to it. We can’t go back on that now, just because you…”

I paused, and chose my words carefully.

“Just because of your needs.”

“Anything else?” she asked warningly, and I nodded.

“Lastly, because I love you. I love you, and the thought of kissing anyone but you is killing me. I know it’s still you, but…honey, it’s different.

“You know it’s different.”

Experiencing my wife’s intense gaze through the eyes of my daughter was one of the strangest things about the experience so far. When she again asked me if I was done, I just nodded

For the next few minutes, I just squirmed under the strange mix of parental authority and teenage innocence that my wife was projecting. Finally, she spoke.

“I love you too, and that’s why we need this.”

“It’s just ten more days,” I interjected, and she shook her head.

“It’s more than that,” she said. “It’s ten days and it’s ten nights. I…I can’t control myself, Andrew.”

For a moment, the intense stare cracked, and my teenage daughter looked truly vulnerable.

“I’m scared. Today at school, I found myself staring at one of the basketball players. I didn’t even know I was doing it. He saw me staring…no not just staring. Ogling. He saw me ogling him, and he asked me for my number.”

“Mary, that’s…—“

“ _And I gave it to him._ ”

There was a pause.

“What?”

“I gave him my number, Andrew. Belle’s number. I handed our daughter’s number out to a strange boy at school, because he thought I was checking him out. No…because I _was_ checking him out.”

“Mary, that’s…”

“ _I know_. Believe me, there’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought of. I _know_ what the problems with this are, and yes, we’ll be getting our daughter a new number. But I can’t control myself—I’ve already gone through two sets of vibrator batteries, and it isn’t enough. If Spike calls and invites me around…I don’t know if I’ll be able to say no.”

We sat in silence as I reflected on my wife’s words.

“I know what a bad idea this is, truly I do. But if I don’t get some release, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m meant to be helping our daughter, not destroying her social life. Please, Andrew. I need this. We can be careful—we can be _so_ careful. And I want to appreciate our daughter’s bodily autonomy, but if it’s not with you, it’s going to be with somebody else, I know it is.”

“Maybe you should…”

“Switch back? If you say no, I will. If you can’t do this, I’ll switch back. But this is working, darling, I know it is.”

I thought back to the previous night, and was forced to agree.

“Ten more days,” my wife continued. “Ten more days, and we’ll have made a real difference. In the meantime…”

My wife sighed, and threw my daughter’s hands up in the air.

“I need it. I love you, and I need you. What do you say?”


	Chapter 8

It was definitely easier the second time.

“Ellen”, I moaned in my head. She was a blonde, I decided. I’d never been with a blonde. She was a blonde who yes, had some similarities to my daughter, but that made sense. My wife had similarities to my daughter, and that had never been off-putting before.

Although now, maybe it would be…

No. Focus, Andy. Focus on Ellen.

She was a small blonde who liked skiing, and practiced yoga. That would explain why she was so flexible. In her spare time, she brewed her own beer and…—

My eyes shot open.

“Mary!” I gasped. While we’d been making out, my mind heavily and deliberately on ‘Ellen’, my daughter’s hand had made its way down to my crotch. Through my pants, she was now patting and grabbing at my erection.

“Please,” she panted. “I need it…oh god, I need it.”

“No…” I objected…but for a few moments, my hands remained where they were, resting lightly my daughter’s back.

When my wife _wasn’t_ swapping bodies with my daughter, we typically made love three or four times a week. It had been four days; not a particularly long dry spell, but long enough that…well, tension had begun to build up.

And my wife is very, very good with her hands.

No. Not her hands. My daughter’s hands.

“Honey,” I whispered, firmly grabbing her hand and moving it to my chest. “We can’t.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, and soon her mouth was back on mine, my eyes were closed, and Mary’s inexplicably-Portuguese sister was back on my mind, her tiny hands grabbing and kneading at my chest, her hips thrusting forward as she climbed on top of me.

My daughter’s school had a uniform; again, something that I’d never thought twice about before. It was a fairly standard outfit—white, button-up shirts, pleated skirts, white socks, black shoes. She’d been wearing it for years, and until her misbehavior of late, it had never held any significance.

Part of her rebellion had been to hike up the skirt, and to choose bras which gave the blouse a much chestier tone.

We’d told her off for it, of course, but as our battles had grown more frequent, we’d had to pick and choose what we focused our energies on. Over time, the uniform had been a lower priority, and so now I barely even noticed how much leg she showed, or how much cleavage she managed to give an otherwise-sedate top.

As my wife used Belle’s body to gyrate, however, I suddenly became aware that the shorter skirt gave easy access.

I didn’t say anything as my wife continued to moan into my lips, rubbing our daughter’s body against me, her panties grinding against my erection. Had she noticed what she was doing? I didn’t want to embarrass her by drawing attention to it, but nor did I want our daughter’s privates in such proximity to mind.

At least her hands were now behaving themselves.

For a quarter of the hour, I indulged my wife’s needs, allowing her to grind on me, use my mouth as a release valve for the lust she’d been building up all day. I even used my hands to roam around our daughter’s body…sticking to safe areas, of course. Her back, her stomach. Her legs, once, but that had felt too weird, and I’d had to stop.

And then, just as I was about to push her away, it happened.

My daughter’s tongue pushed into my mouth, her hands tightened their grip, and her entire body began to shake. My mental image of the sensational, fictional ‘Ellen’ disappeared, and I opened my eyes in alarm.

A low, guttural moan emerged from my daughter’s mouth, and she began to twitch. Once, twice, three times, so strongly that I was worried she would buck herself off the chair.

“Yesssss” she groaned, her head flying back and her crotch grinding into mine. “Yes yes yes yes yesssssss…”

It was an embarrassingly long time before I realized what I was witnessing: my daughter’s orgasm.

“Oh god…” I muttered, feeling like I was going to throw up. My daughter had just cum, rubbing her body against mine.

No. No, not my daughter.

My wife. I tried desperately to remember that this was my wife, but it was hard.

I’d only been with a few women besides Mary, and—loathe to admit this as I am—I never witnessed any of them achieving orgasm. I suppose a part of me had just always assumed that Mary’s orgasms were…standard. After all, porn and locker-room talk had told me that all men’s orgasms look very similar; it made sense that it was the same for women.

The mixture of disgust and fascination was overwhelming, and for the next few minutes, I just felt numb. Mary lifted our daughter’s body off mine, kissed me gently on the lips, and thanked me.

As she left for her room, I shuddered. Was she going off to relive what we’d just done, what I’d just done?

God.

I needed a shower.

* * *

After I’d cooled down, Mary (in my daughter’s body) entered our bedroom. Her red eyes told me that she’d either been crying or…

I chose to believe she’d been crying.

Maybe the reality of what we were doing had finally struck her. Maybe she’d come down from her orgasms, and realized that we couldn’t go on this way, that she would just have to find the willpower…

The first words out of her mouth dashed my hopes.

“That was amazing,” she said, her blue eyes smiling up at me. “It helped. It helped more than you can imagine. Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

“That’s okay,” I stammered. I mean, what else was I to say?

She threw her arms around me. I momentarily tensed up, but it seemed that she was genuinely just seeking a hug.

“That’s okay,” I repeated, relaxing my body and returning the cuddle.

As she left, she looked back at me, and with three simple words, filled my heart with dread:

“Same time tomorrow?”


	Chapter 9

The next day, I didn’t fight it.

Even that made me feel bad—almost as though I was encouraging my wife’s deviant behavior.

But yesterday had made one thing clear: even when she was in my daughter’s body, I was no match for my wife.

If she wanted make-outs, make-outs she would get.

No sooner was she home, a coy smile on her face, than she leapt into my lap and pressed her face against mine. Like yesterday, she gyrated against my crotch, her short skirt allowing easy access.

Unlike yesterday, it was clear that her actions were deliberate.

I desperately tried to force my mind to ‘Ellen’, but it was hard. I’d seen my own daughter’s o-face; there was no coming back from that.

On top of that, I still hadn’t cum since the transformation—almost a week. Last night it had taken a few hours of tossing and turning before I’d finally managed to drift off to sleep.

Add ‘suspicious sleep patterns’ to the reason I was glad not to be sharing a room with my wife’s body.

But I couldn’t cum. I couldn’t. How could I?

What if my mind slipped?

I don’t own any porn, and going to my computer to download some would have taken me through the den, where my ‘wife’ was sleeping. If I’d jerked off, I would have had to rely on my own imagination, and what if…

God, what if my brain turned to my most recent sexual experience?

What if I thought about my daughter?

I couldn’t do it. I _wouldn’t_ do it.

I didn’t want to do it, but I’d just seen her cum, I’d made out with her two days in a row.

Jesus…I’d made out with my daughter, two days in a row. Just the thought of it made me sick.

And so without any porn, and not trusting my brain not to slip to the wrong image, I’d gone another night without orgasm.

The next day, I’d been hit with an unexpected deadline—taking fifteen minutes off to rub one out was technically possible, but not at the risk of Q1’s entire tax break. And so I’d submitted the last file when Mary entered, twisting my darling daughter’s mouth into an erotic smile that I’d never wanted to experience.

“God I want you,” she whispered in my ear, and I shuddered.

_Ellen,_ I reminded myself. _Ellen, Ellen, Ellen. Ellen wants me. Not my daughter._

_Not my beautiful Belle._

I made myself a promise: as soon as we were done, as soon as my wife skipped our daughter’s body out of the room, I swore that I was going to go online, find some porn, and get off to a MILF. Or a chubby goth. Or a grandma covered in tattoos.

Anyone. As long as they had as little resemblance to Belle as possible.

Belle’s tongue explored my mouth as her mother steered her hands around my body.

For the first time in our marriage, I wished my wife didn’t know me as well as she did—she knew exactly what I liked. The way she pinched my earlobe, the way she dragged her nails across my back. She tried to move one hand below my belt, but I slapped her away.

“No,” I said firmly, expecting resistance.

To my surprise, she moaned in response, and immediately moved her hand. Up to my chest—safer than where it had been, yes, but…well, my wife knows that I have sensitive nipples.

As she played with them, I couldn’t help it—a small groan left my mouth. It just felt so _good_ , and it had been _days_ …

It was as if the sound lit a small fire in my daughter’s body. My wife immediately redoubled her efforts, stroking and pinching, and grinding against me. To my horror, I realized that I could recognize the signs of her impending orgasm—something that no father should be able to recognize in his daughter.

“No,” I murmured involuntarily, and (surprising me again), Mary backed off. She pulled Belle’s hands out from under my shirt, and she slowed down.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately realized how counterproductive it had been. The longer it took her to cum, the longer we’d have to do this.

_Should I do something to…speed things along?_

As soon as the thought entered my head, I realized that I couldn’t. I also realized that…I had to.

It doesn’t take me long to cum at the best of times…and even if she was my daughter, a half-naked teenager grinding against my erection was more stimulation than I needed. A half-naked teenager with my wife’s me-specific expertise?

We needed to end this, or within the next few minutes, I’d cross a line that we couldn’t cross.

I hadn’t had to wash cum-stains out of my pants since I was a teenager. It _wasn’t_ something I’d missed.

Gritting my teeth, trying to think about the Queen, about cricket, about anything-in-the-world-that-wasn’t-sex, I did the unthinkable. I said the unspeakable.

“Cum for me,” I whispered in my daughter’s ear.

“Oh GOD,” she shrieked. “Yesssss…”

“Cum for me,” I repeated. My wife, for all her bossiness, loves being told what to do in the bedroom, and I hoped this predilection had followed her into our daughter’s body. “Cum for me.”

“Yes,” she shouted. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Cum for me!” I ordered, focusing as hard as I could on the pain in my ears from Belle’s shouting.

“Hit me!” she replied, and my eyes shot open.

“What?”

“Hit me!” she said again, and—almost instinctively—I did.

SMACK.

As soon as my open palm collided with my daughter’s panty-clad ass, I felt a sense of horrible guilt. We’d spanked Belle once or twice as a child, and even then I’d hated doing it.

Just like when Belle was spanked as a babe, she opened her mouth and wailed. This time, however, it wasn’t in anguish or despair.

It was in a guttural moan, and it deepened as she practically twitched herself onto the floor.


	Chapter 10

“Honey,” I said gently, as my wife picked Belle’s body off the floor. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

“Why?” she asked, and for a moment it was easy to see nothing but my daughter’s innocent face, easy to pretend that everything was business as usual.

Then the image of my daughter’s face twitching in orgasm crossed my mind, and I was forced to look away.

“Because, I’ve…I’ve got to cum.”

“Oh my god,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god Andrew, please. Please. Let me see it.”

“No!”

I stared at her, aghast. Maybe it was the intensity of my reaction, maybe it was the fact that she’d _just_ cum, but—for the first time since switching bodies with my daughter—Mary backed down.

Whether or not the contrite look on her face was genuine, I couldn’t say, but she backed down.

“Of course,” she said, and almost immediately, I was alone.

I swear, no man has ever loaded up a porn site as quickly as I did that afternoon. I knew that Mary—well, Mary’s body—was going to be home within the next half-hour, and so it was a race against the clock.

I was hard as I could ever remember being, I was right on the edge…but, to my horror, I immediately found a problem in every video I loaded up.

One porn star had the same hair-color as my daughter; the next was wearing a school uniform. The next video took place in a den far too similar to the one that I was sitting in…I clicked through video after video, wanting nothing more than to cum, unable to find anything completely safe.

I had never seen my daughter’s tits (and was never going to), and so I was safe for a few minutes with a titty-fucking video…until I realized that the porn-star’s skin was the _exact_ same shade of olive as Belle’s.

“No no no no,” I muttered, before the obvious solution occurred to me.

Clumsily typing “black chiscks” into the search bar, I was delighted to find that the dark-skinned beauties within had ZERO physical similarities to my daughter.

I was safe.

Running my hand up and down my hardness, I allowed myself to get lost in the video: a black woman getting plowed from all sides by equally-dark men. I’m sure there was some semblance of a plot; all I cared about was getting off without any chance of my daughter’s body entering my mind.

Before long, my balls were gleefully emptying themselves into a tissue that I’d prepared for that very purpose. With a sigh of relief, I cleaned everything up and pulled up my pants…

And that was when I heard it.

“Belle?”

Shit. Mary was home.

Well, Belle was home. Belle in Mary’s body was home.

I cleaned up as quickly as I could, and opened my office door. My ‘wife’ was standing there—Belle had managed to do a better job at Mary’s makeup today, although her stance was all wrong. My wife has many vices, but slouching is not one of them.

The worried look on her face was really what concerned me.

“Honey-blossom?” I asked, hoping she couldn’t smell anything on me as I moved towards her. “What’s up?”

“Belle was…”

“What?”

“When I came home, Belle was kneeling outside your office.”

I tightened my jaw.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. What were you doing in there?”

“Oh, we’d just had a bit of a fight,” I lied smoothly. “I’d told her she couldn’t wear that damn bikini, and that I was going to get rid of it.”

“What? She looks great in that bikini!”

My first instinct was to argue, but then I remembered who I was really talking to. I remembered the reason we were doing this in the first place.

“I know,” I said after a pause. A fight wouldn’t help anyone here. “But surely you can agree she’s too young to be showing off that much skin.”

“Uh, she’s not a _child_. She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

I bit my tongue, and took a deep breath before responding.

“You’re right,” I said calmly. “Yeah, that’s a good point. What do you think we should do?”

“Let her wear the bikini. Where did you hide it?”

“In the safe,” I said. “That’s probably why she was spying—trying to see the combination.”

“Ha!”

Hearing my daughter’s derisive laugh coming from my wife’s lips was an odd experience. Of course, it wasn’t even in the top ten ‘odd experiences’ I’d had over the last few days, so I didn’t dwell on it.

“Hmmm?”

“Doesn’t work.”

“What?”

“You can’t see someone unlock the safe from there. You can only see your chair, and…”

Belle trailed off, my wife’s eyes avoiding mine as she realized what she was saying. Good thing, too—a dark look must have appeared on my face as I realized exactly what Mary had been looking for.

“Probably.” she awkwardly concluded. “I mean, that’s what I reckon. What do you think?”

I decided to keep playing into my daughter’s perception of me.

“Probably,” I casually responded. “I’ll get the bikini out after dinner.”

“I can get it!” my daughter offered, far too quickly. “What’s the combination?”

I stifled a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of this.”

* * *

“I know. I screwed up.”

I stood in my daughter’s doorway, leaning against the frame. I had done the disappointed father act so many times, but this was the first time I felt like it was actually working.

Too bad it was on the wrong person.

“I _know_.”

I didn’t say a word, just raised one eyebrow.

“God damn it, Andrew, I _know_. I’m sorry. It’s just…”

She let out a sigh so despondent, I would have thought she was putting it on, but then I noticed her eyes were watering.

I sat down beside her on the bed, and put one arm around her.

“It’s okay, honey. Just…we need to be more careful, okay?”

“I know.”

“In future, just…”

“Andrew, _I know._ ”

“You can’t let those hormones…—“

“ _Andrew…_ ”

I decided to drop it. Giving my daughter an awkward fatherly side-hug, I kissed her on the top of the head, and—for the first time in a week—started to feel as though things were getting back to normal.


	Chapter 11

The next day was a Saturday. No school, no work.

Well, technically _any_ day could be a work day for me; the benefit of being your own boss. But we’d decided many years ago to make Saturdays “Family Day”, something that Belle had loved as a little girl (and increasingly resented as the years went by).

She hadn’t been home for a Family Day in almost a year—probably off with ‘Spike’.

When my wife (in Belle’s body) entered the kitchen and put on some toast, Belle (in my wife’s body) practically squawked in alarm.

“Honey!” she said, slightly too intensely. “What are you doing here?”

“Family Day,” my wife said, rolling Belle’s eyes.

“Yes,” my daughter replied, through Mary’s gritted teeth. “But what about…you know.”

“ _What?_ ”

I had to admit, my wife was doing an excellent job of aping my daughter’s mannerisms and attitude. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t have been able to tell there was anyone but Belle in there.

“ _You know_. The game!”

“Mo-om! God, you’re such a _freak_. How do you know about the game? Are you _spying_ on me?”

“No, no!”

It was almost funny, watching my daughter try to desperately back-peddle.

“No, I just, uh, heard about it. From Spike’s mom. She…wanted to know if we were coming.”

“God, you’ve been talking to Spike’s MOM? What is wrong with you?”

“Honey, he seems to be…he seems to be a, uh, a nice…young…lad. Yes.”

To my surprise, tears welled up in my daughter’s eyes. Mary really knew what she was doing.

“Well he can’t be THAT nice because he’s been sleeping with LACEY for the last two months!”

“What!? That SLUT!”

I looked away to stifle a laugh, and when I glanced back, I noticed that my wife’s eyes were growing wet as well.

Crap. I had forgotten that this was the first Belle was hearing about her own break-up.

“Uh, honey,” I said, putting a gentle hand on my wife’s arm. She pulled it away in anger, before realizing what she was doing.

“Sorry, _sweetie-pie_ ,” Belle said, clenching my wife’s teeth. I made a mental note to move up her next dental appointment; I very much doubted my daughter was brushing. “I just…I didn’t know that my daughter had been dumped.”

“I didn’t even know she was dating.”

“You don’t know _anything_.”

There was an awkward pause as my two girls realized they’d said the exact same thing at the exact same time. I side-stepped the entire situation, picked up my iPad, and pretended to continue reading the news.

“Honey,” my daughter said, in a fairly good impression of my wife. “Are you okay?”

“Like you even care,” my wife muttered, doing a superb impression of my daughter.

“Of course I care,” Belle said, opening my wife’s eyes slightly as she realized the truth of what she was saying. I tried to keep my attention on the tablet screen, but it was hard—was this the breakthrough we’d been looking for? Was Belle finally getting it?

The next words she said sent my hopes crashing through the floor, and almost doubled my heart-rate.

“Belle, get your bikini—we’re going to the beach!”

* * *

It would have been far easier to avoid noticing my daughter’s body…if my attention wasn’t constantly being drawn to it.

“Look at her, cuddle-pot!” my daughter said excitedly, using my wife’s hand to point. As if she needed to point—the bikini-clad teenager would have stood out in almost any crowd. The half-dozen families building sand castles provided zero competition.

“I see her, chicken licken.”

“Doesn’t she look _great_?”

My wife’s eyes were shining with pride, and I realized what was happening. We never really get a chance to _see_ ourselves, not really. Everyone is their own worst critic, and looking at your body through your own eyes means you’re never going to truly appreciate what’s there.

Especially, I suspect, if you’re a teenage girl.

“She’s beautiful, honey,” I responded simply, and she patted my arm with joy.

Mary, for her part, seemed to be having a great time. She’d dropped our daughter’s trademark slouch, and returned to her own familiar gait—shoulders back, chin held high.

She was wandering up and down the waves, and seemed to almost be feeding off the stares she was getting. As I mentioned, Belle’s body was without comparison—her legs were long and toned, her stomach was flat, and her breasts were…well, they were larger than I’d been expecting. Not comically large, but certainly quite ample on her young teenage frame.

I was _so_ glad I’d gotten off the night before. I started scanning the beach, trying to see if there were any black women in bikinis I could use to distract myself.

Before I could find anything, Mary’s hand gripped my arm.

“They’re _here_ ,” she said excitedly.

Too excitedly.

“Who?”

She struck an innocent pose.

“Just, uh…just some of Belle’s friends from school.”

“Oh no,” I muttered under my breath.

I’d never met the guy. I would have been quite happy to go the rest of my life _without_ meeting him. But the moment I laid eyes on the boy, I recognized him.

Spike.

He was exactly my daughter’s type. Piercings, tattoos…and who comes to the beach in a leather jacket? Somehow, he managed to avoid looking like he was about to melt.

Somehow, I was loathe to admit, he looked… _cool_.

I immediately hated him.

Judging by the daggers shooting from my wife’s eyes, I guessed that the piece of arm candy draped over him was Lacey.

“I thought he had a game,” I murmured to myself.

“They always come to the beach after the game,” Belle responded, using my wife’s arm to tug me forward. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go. I want to see what’s going to happen.”

“Button-pants,” I said softly, “isn’t this…y’know, Belle’s business? Shouldn’t we give her some privacy?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah.”

My daughter fell back, the soft smirk never leaving Mary’s lips.

“We can see everything from here anyway.”


	Chapter 12

“He doesn’t look like a football player to me,” I said casually.

Belle rolled my wife’s eyes.

“He doesn’t _play_ football. Duh, Da—…”

She cut herself off, and quickly tried to recover.

“…aaaffodill. Daffodil. He just hangs around the game, and, uh…”

“Sells drugs?” I quipped, and the look on my wife’s face told me that I’d inadvertently guessed it.

Jesus. What had our daughter gotten into?

“Just pot,” she quickly informed me, before going slightly red as she realized what she’d said.

“You’re such a good Mom,” I said, deciding to let her off the hook slightly. Not that she deserved it—dating a pot dealer? What the hell was she thinking?

I intertwined my fingers with hers and continued. “I don’t know half of what goes on under our roof.”

“That’s my job,” she replied thoughtfully. “To keep track of what’s happening in…our daughter’s life.”

The ‘confrontation’ was short, and uneventful. Lacey tried to kick sand in Belle’s eyes, and fell over in the process. My wife used our daughter’s body to point and laugh—Spike sneeringly stayed out of it, and before long he’d taken his bimbo and left.

I suggested we go home, but I was immediately shot down. Apparently the real football players were coming, and “Mary” wanted to show our daughter off to them.

Something told me this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t work out how to get everyone back in the car without drawing suspicion, and so I bit my tongue.

My instincts were right.

As soon as the football players arrived, my wife started showing off our daughter’s body. She touched their arms, laughed at their jokes, and before long one of them had an arm around her.

Even from across the beach, I could tell she was enjoying the attention. Even from across the beach, I could tell she was getting far too much enjoyment out of the teen’s lusty gazes.

“Isn’t she _popular_?” Belle said dreamily, and that’s when I realized I was the only one here who was going to stop what was happening.

“That’s it!” I said, standing up. “We’re going home!”

* * *

The entire car-ride home, I was met with a barrage of complaints. Neither my wife nor my daughter wanted to leave—for, I’m afraid, much the same reasons. Belle used my wife’s lips to berate me, with Mary using my daughter’s to join in.

I held fast, however. Tracking my daughter’s orgasms was yet another item on the ‘never wanted to do this, horrified that I have to’ list, yet there I was, knowing that she hadn’t cum for at _least_ five hours.

Based on what she’d told me about how her school days had been, staying at the beach would have quickly led to her sneaking off with a football player, and…

…well, I didn’t even want to think about what she’d have done with him.

Didn’t want to, but was unable to prevent myself from doing so.

When we got home, I fully expected them to both go to their rooms and slam the doors, but my wife surprised me.

“Mom,” she said, making fine use of Belle’s blue eyes. “Can you go to the store for me?”

“What?”

“I’m out of pink lipstick, and I need some more.”

“Can’t your father go? He was the one who wanted to end Family Day early.”

“God, _Mom_. Think about it. You want to send DAD to get _lipstick_. Please, Mom—I have a date tonight.”

Apparently those were the magic words, because (visibly thrilled that she got to drive the ‘big car’) my wife’s body was almost immediately out the door, and on the way to ‘Sephora’, whatever that was.

Not sending me was a smart move.

The moment I heard the car peeling out of the driveway (making sounds that were loud enough to be slightly alarming), Belle’s body was on my lap, her lips on mine.

“Oh my god, _Andrew_ …”

“Honey, we…—“

“Oh, god, shut up and kiss me. Did you see all those eyes on me today? Me! They were all looking at _me_.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but it was immediately filled with my daughter’s tongue.

“ _Touch_ me,” my wife moaned, pulling my hands to Belle’s breasts. “Oh god, Andrew, _touch me…_ ”

“How far away is Thesaura?” I asked.

“Twenty minutes. We’d better be fast!”

I’d spent the day unwillingly staring at my daughter’s bikini-clad body, so it was difficult to mentally replace her with ‘Ellen’.

Still, I did my best. Anywhere I moved my hands, I was met with soft teenage flesh and loud, impassioned moans. Avoiding her ‘swimsuit areas’ meant that I was running my hands over my daughter’s bare skin, and Mary seemed to be doing her best to push inappropriate body-parts into my hands.

“I can’t,” I said, as—for the third time—she twisted our daughter’s body to get her large, firm tits into my hands.

“I need to be touched, Andrew, please. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh _please_. Please, honey. Touch meeee…”

I glanced at the clock. Holy shit—had it been thirty minutes already? We needed to speed things up.

Mary took advantage of the distraction to, for the fourth time, manoeuvred our daughter’s bikini-top into my hands.

Considering the time pressure, I gave in, and set my mind firmly to Ellen.

Kneading my daughter’s teenage boobs, I desperately pretended they belonged to my wife’s fictional sister.

“Harder,” she moaned, and I unwillingly obliged.

“Cum for me,” I said insistently, trying to ignore the needy tone in my voice. “Oh, _god_ , cum for me…”

“Yesss!” she erupted. “Oh touch me touch me touch me touch me TOUCH me.”

For the next thirty seconds, I stared anxiously at the door, praying to god that I wouldn’t see my wife’s face before my daughter’s climax had finished. The entire time she came, twitching against my hands, she kept on repeating it.

“ _touch me touch me touch me touch me touch me touch me…_ ”

After what felt like an eternity, she came down from it, she pulled back, and stared at me lovingly. It was a look that I was familiar with from both my daughter and my wife…although admittedly, it hasn’t been one that Belle has given me lately.

“Andrew, you’re…fuck me, you’re a _god_.”

“Language,” I said with a watery smile.

“Honey, come on. We have one more week. We might as well enjoy this.”

Before I could respond, we heard the sound of the car re-entering the driveway.


	Chapter 13

My wife impresses me each and every day. Perhaps that’s the secret to a happy marriage; she seems to be constantly raising the bar.

Admittedly, ‘swapping minds with our teenage daughter’ is going to be a tough one to top, but even the little stuff impresses me—like how she managed to change our daughter’s look from ‘freshly fucked’ to ‘presentable’ in less than a minute, talking all the while.

“Honey,” she said, adjusting her hair and wiping sweat off her…everything. “The date tonight—that’s real.”

“What??”

“I know! I’m sorry. He was…I was…look, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is…you need to get me out of it.”

“Me? Why don’t _you_ just…—“

“Andrew. Seriously. I know we just…

She paused, and shot me a firm look.

“Well, _you know_. But trust me, in no time at all, it’s going to be back.”

“What is?”

“It! The…the urges! The libido! The _hormones_. It’s a non-stop fucking loop. I have no idea how ANY teenage girl avoids getting pregnant, or…I don’t know, masturbating to dehydration. It boggles the mind.”

“Okay, so…”

My wife’s words were interrupted by the sound of the garage door closing.

“So if you don’t stop me, I’m going to go out with Philip.”

“Philip?”

My daughter’s cheeks went red, and I realized my wife was blushing.

“I don’t _want_ to. But…remember when I first found fancy cheese?”

“Yes. We had to stop keeping it in the house.”

“ _Exactly_. Philip is fancy cheese. If you don’t stop me, I…I can’t help myself.”

I could hear my wife’s keys in the front door.

“Ground me!”

“What?”

“We don’t have time for this. Ground me! Find some reason, and…and…”

“Won’t that be a little counter-productive? We’re trying to…—“

“Fine! I’ll give you a reason. Just please…ground me!”

My wife’s head popped around the corner, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“What are you two talking about?”

Balling our daughter’s fists, Mary turned towards her former body. She moved her shoulders back, took half a step forward, and hissed two words:

“You. Cunt.”

This wasn’t the first time.

A few months ago, Mary had discovered a pack of cigarettes in Belle’s room. Knowing what I know now about her boyfriend, I’m surprised that’s _all_ she found.

She threw them out, of course, and when Belle found out, she hit the roof.

The C-word was used, voices were raised, and Belle had been grounded for a week.

That time, I’d been the recipient of the curse word. At the time, I’d been torn between shock and amusement. Obviously no one likes to be called that, but it also felt a little like ‘baby’s first swear’. Cute, almost.

It had really hit Mary hard, however. I can’t help but wonder if that was when she’d finally come to terms with the fact that we really had a problem.

The look on my wife’s face was…well, it was almost identical to the look on her face the first time it had happened. This time, however, the face was being controlled by our daughter.

Apparently she didn’t like being on the receiving end of teenage rebellion.

Belle’s elbow nudged me in the side, and I suddenly realized my role in this little play.

“Young lady, that is unacceptable! You are GROUNDED!”

“This is totally unfair!” she shouted back at me, and when I turned to my ‘wife’ for support, I was surprised to find that she wasn’t there.

“Go!”

“What?”

My wife rolled my daughter’s eyes, and pointed. “Go! Comfort her.”

“But…—“

“Andrew, honey, this isn’t hard. Go and comfort your damned wife.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.”

“If she asks why I was so mad, tell her that I found out about the diary. She’ll know what it means.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, and honey?”

“Mmm?”

“After you’re done…come see me in my room, okay?”

I don’t know if she noticed the shudder that passed through my body as she left. Seeing that look of lust on our daughter’s face…

This wasn’t what I’d signed up for.

* * *

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” I said, trying to avoid looking at my daughter’s body. She’d changed from a revealing bikini into an equally-revealing set of lingerie. Where had our daughter even acquired such an outfit?

“What happened?” my wife said, patting Belle’s bed.

“About what you’d expect,” I said with a sigh, reluctantly sitting beside her. “She cried, she asked what had happened, I told her about the diary…she _did_ read the diary, did you know that?”

“Of course. I’ve been writing in it every day. She forgot to put the sheet back after she grabbed it from under the bed this morning.”

“Oh.”

I wanted to ask why my wife knew where our daughter’s diary was, but this wasn’t the time for _that_ conversation.

“She probably just wants to know what ‘she’ is up to, but it was a handy excuse. What did she say about me swearing at her?”

“She didn’t like it, I’ll say that much. I don’t think she expected it to hurt as much as it did. I think…”

I hesitated to say it, knowing what train of thought it would inevitably lead my wife down, but I couldn’t _lie_.

“…I think this is really working. We’re really getting through to her.”

“Of course we are,” my wife said, her trademark grin not sitting quite right on our daughter’s face. “Have I ever been wrong before?”

“Napa Valley,” I responded flatly, and we both burst out laughing.

“Where is she now?”

“Asleep. She had a glass of wine…—“

“You let her drink _wine_?”

I smiled, and put my arm around my daughter’s neck.

“Honey, she’s in the body of a 40-year old. I think she can handle a little wine.”

The grin returned.

“As the owner of that 40-year old body, I can assure you: she can’t. A whole glass? She’ll be out cold all night. And that means…”

Gently but firmly, I pushed my lingerie-wearing daughter’s body away from mine.

“Sweetie, we can’t keep doing this. _I_ can’t keep doing this.”

“Andrew, honey; she’s out cold. We can be as loud as we want…”

“That’s just it, my love. I _don’t_ want. I know that…I know that you’re doing this for us. And I know that it’s hard for you. And believe me, I’m doing _everything_ I can. But you just…you already…it wasn’t even two hours ago, and…”

Mary moved one of Belle’s fingers to my lips, and interrupted my stuttering.

“I’m asking too much, aren’t I?”

“Yes! Yes, honey. Too much. Once a day, sure. Fine. I can do what needs to be done once a day. But this is…it’s starting to take its toll.”

My wife thought for a moment, and nodded our daughter’s head.

“Once a day. Okay. That’s fair.”

I paused, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and was surprised to be met with…silence.

“Really?”

“Of course. Once a day. If that’s all you can handle, my sweet, that’s what we’ll do.”

“And…you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“No…other boys?”

“No other boys.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I smiled down at my daughter’s beautiful face.

“We’re going to get through this.”

“Of course we are, honey.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Thank _you_.”


	Chapter 14

Around lunchtime on Sunday, I started feeling guilty.

I’d spent the entire morning in a state of tension, just _knowing_ that Mary was going to pull me aside and try to fool around. I’d been so sure that she wasn’t going to be able to stick to her word.

By noon, I realized that I’d greatly underestimated my wife, and I felt terrible.

She was playing the role perfectly; sulking about being grounded, complaining about the date that she’d been forced to miss. She’d perhaps laid it on a little _too_ thick—around three, Belle had used my wife’s body to sit me down and talk.

“Lovey-dove,” she started, a grimace flitting across her face as the term of endearment left her mouth, “don’t you worry that we’re being a little harsh on Belle?”

“No,” I said flatly. Perhaps it wasn’t the best approach to take—confirming our daughter’s view of us as overly-harsh dictators—but there was no way I was going to risk Mary using my daughter’s body to go on a date.

She’d said it herself; she wouldn’t be able to resist.

“No,” I repeated. “She brought this on herself. Using such _language_ on her mother.”

For a moment, I wondered if perhaps _I_ was the one laying it on a little thick. I’d been saying ‘cunt’ since I was fifteen. I’d been friends with an Australian—they use the word as commonly as conjunctions.

My wife had surprised me that morning with her self-control; my daughter surprised me in that conversation with her maturity.

“Yeah,” she said softly, and I could tell that she was very far away. “It’s not cool, is it?”

“No,” I repeated, a half-smile on my face. “It’s not cool.”

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes (something I feel like I haven’t done with my daughter since she was in diapers) before she pulled herself together and stood up.

“Where are you going?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

“Out,” my wife said, a sullen tone in her voice. It took her a few moments to remember her situation; I carefully avoided looking at her as she caught up. “Uh, I mean…out, sweety-bum! Errands. Just going on some errands.”

“Oh?”

Something was afoot, and I didn’t like it. For a moment, an image passed through my mind—my daughter tracking Spike down, using my wife’s body to…

No. No, she’d never do that.

No matter what, I _knew_ that my daughter would never do that.

“I’ve got some errands to go on as well,” I said, standing up casually. “Maybe I’ll come with you.”

“No!” my wife’s mouth squeaked. Belle took a second, trying to act calmly. “No. No, no need for that.”

“Well, where are you going? Maybe we’re not going in the same direction.”

“Definitely not!” Belle replied, nervously twisting my wife’s top. “Opposite direction.”

“Mary,” I said slowly. Some would say ‘patronizingly’. “How do you know? I haven’t told you where I’m going.”

With a sigh, my wife’s body collapsed back in the chair.

“Fine,” she said. “You caught me!”

I stifled a laugh. This was the exact response, in both words and movement, my daughter had once given me when she was nine.

“Hmmm?”

“Belle asked me to head up to the outlet mall for her.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s a dress on sale,” she said.

“The outlet mall is forty minutes each way,” I said, scratching my head. “Why would…”

Oh.

Suddenly, my wife’s good behavior all morning made a lot more sense.

“You don’t _understand_ ,” Belle huffed, rolling my wife’s eyes. “It’s a Hot Kiss dress, and it’s more than fifty-percent off. It’s _so_ cute, and…”

“Why doesn’t _she_ just go?” I asked, and answered the question at the same time as my wife.

“‘She’s grounded’. Right.”

I sighed.

“I agree she should be grounded,” Belle said, surprising me again. I smiled at her, and she turned a poor imitation of my wife’s best puppy-dog eyes in my direction. “What she did was…”

She swallowed.

“It was across the line.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“But she was so good this morning.”

_Yes,_ I thought. _And now I know why._

“And the dress is _so_ cute…”

I waved away the dreamy expression in my wife’s tone.

“Go,” I said with a sigh. “My errands are in the opposite direction anyway.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” she gushed, before blinking twice and composing herself. “I mean. Uh…”

“You’re excited,” I said with a warm smile. “It’s fine. I’m sure she’s going to look great in it.”

“She will!”

The look of excitement made me nervous, but I knew better than to stand between a woman and a discounted dress.

“Drive safe, okay?”

“Bye,” she said, grabbing the keys and headed for the door. “Love you!”

“I love you too,” I said automatically, before realizing what she’d just said.

It had been literally years since our daughter told us that she loved us. We know she does, of course—we may be flawed people, but we’re good parents. All Belle’s life, we’ve never shown her anything but love and affection.

But to hear her _say it_ , even using my wife’s mouth?

It was working. My wife’s crazy plan…was working.

Whatever the costs, it was worth it.

So it was with a spring in my step that I ascended the stairs, excited to tell Mary the good news.

I opened Belle’s bedroom door without knocking, and was met with the sight of my teenage daughter’s naked body, writhing around on the bed as she touched herself.

“Belle!” I exclaimed, shocked enough to forget who I was talking to. Not twenty minutes ago, my daughter’s body had been in the living room, fully clothed, playing with her phone.

“Andrew,” she moaned, turning to look at me, her eyes burning with lust. “Please…”

I should have turned away. I wanted to turn away. But the sight…the smell…

I was overwhelmed. Frozen in place, like a deer in the headlights.

“Please, Andrew,” my wife panted, using my daughter’s hand to pull on her long, pink nipple. I didn’t want to know it was long and pink. That was something I never, ever needed to know.

“I want to suck your cock. Let me suck your cock. Oh, god. Please. Please, honey…I need it.”


	Chapter 15

“Mary, no!”

My reaction was immediate and instinctive…but despite my harsh tone, my wife didn’t miss a beat.

“Once a day,” she pleaded, using—to my horror—our daughter’s ‘cute’ voice. “Once a day, Andrew. You promised.”

I realized I was still staring at my teenage daughter’s exposed flesh, and turned away.

“I promised once a day, but…honey, there have to be limits! You know there do.”

“I need it,” she repeated. “Honey, please. Please…I need it.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Love, no. I can’t. We can’t. Please, try to understand…”

“Andrew…”

I could hear the desperation in her voice, but worse; I could hear the wet sound of flesh on flesh.

Even as she was pleading for me to let her suck her cock, my wife hadn’t stopped playing with our daughter’s wetness.

From the sound of it, she hadn’t even slowed down.

“You were very good this morning,” I said, and she let out a loud moan in response.

“I’m so good,” she gasped. “Yes! Oh god, yes…I’m your good girl.

“I’m your good girl…”

“Mary!”

I turned in shock, preparing to let my wife have it, to inform her just how unacceptable this behavior was.

I was met with the sight of my daughter’s legs, widely spread, as Mary showed off the pinkness between them.

“Oh, _god_.”

“Look at me,” Mary panted, and—god forgive me—I did. My daughter’s hand sped up, and her eyes bored into mine. “ _Look at me…_ ”

For the umpteenth time in six days, I was forced to watch my daughter’s orgasm. I wish I’d looked away, but I was transfixed. My wife’s skillful motions, my daughter’s soft, small hand.

I watched as Belle’s body twitched in orgasm, as her youthful legs were used to push her pelvis up, thrusting against the air, as she watched me watching her.

When she was done, I wanted to be sick.

“Mary,” I gasped.

“Oh, god, _Andrew_.”

“Mary, we…we can’t.”

At some point, I’d shut my eyes. When I reopened them, my daughter was standing in front of me, staring up at me. Mary had grabbed the blanket off our daughter’s bed to cover her borrowed body, and Belle’s wide blue eyes were full of love, full of concern.

“Andrew,” she said softly. “…we already have.”

“No…”

Mary raised Belle’s hands to my cheeks, allowing the blanket to drop. Her firm tits with their long, hard, pink nipples came into view.

“We’re in this together, my sweet.”

A part of me wanted to cry.

“Now please. _Please._ Let me take care of this…”

My eyes widened as Mary skillfully undid my fly, and Belle’s hands removed my erection from my pants.

I hadn’t even noticed I was hard.

“That’s…it’s…”

Mary ignored my unintelligible rasping, and made full use of her twenty years of experience.

“I’ve been so good all morning,” she said softly, and I suddenly realized it wasn’t love and concern in her eyes.

It was lust.

Even after what sounded like an earth-shattering orgasm, my wife was still horny.

She still needed me.

“I’ve been so good all morning,” she repeated. “Now please, reward me.”

I wanted to refuse, but my lips wouldn’t move.

“Reward your good girl,” she said, and slowly dropped to her knees. “I need it…”

A stronger man than I would have pushed her away. A stronger man would have walked out of that room.

Mary’s a good wife, and an even better mother. I _know_ she would have found some way of overcoming the hormones, of making her way through the two weeks without…

…without taking my cock in our daughter’s mouth.

If I were a better person, a better husband, a better father, I would have walked away. But I’d just seen my daughter’s pink pussy clench in orgasm. I was in shock.

I was in shock, and more turned on than I was comfortable with.

And my wife needed me.

I didn’t make a sound as Mary slowly stroked our daughter’s hands up and down my erection. I just watched, unable to move, barely able to breathe, as my daughter’s wet hands wrapped around my girth.

My wife’s attention wasn’t on my face. She was staring at my cock, enthralled. It was a cock she’d seen hundreds of times before, but now…she looked fascinated

Awed.

With a soft moan, she began to worship it.

My daughter’s lips moved to the head of my cock, and she spent several minutes just kissing it. Now my wife was the unintelligible one—she was whispering what sounded like gibberish, terms of endearment, with the occasional “Yes”, “Please”, and one or two “Good girl”s thrown in.

When my daughter’s mouth opened, and my wife filled it with half of my cock—that’s when I _really_ should have done something.

Instead, I groaned.

It’s an unusual sensation, to have your cock be truly _adored_. It was obvious that my wife had been fantasizing about it for days and days—Belle’s eyes went hazy as it entered her mouth, and her entire face lit up.

She continued to swallow as much as she could, and when her lips reached the base, she looked up at me proudly.

A tear ran down her face. God help me, it made me throb.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Mary pulled my teenager daughter’s face back, until just the tip of my erection was resting on her lips.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” she whispered.

For the second time that night, I was repulsed and unwillingly aroused. With a ferocity that genuinely startled me, Mary moved our daughter’s mouth down until it had once more engulfed my entire erection. Concern flashed through my body as she made a strong gagging sound—the concern faded as she pulled back and did it again, and again, and again.

The single tear was met by others. Mary sounded like she was literally choking our daughter on my cock. It was terrifying.

Terrifying, and far hotter than I wanted it to be.

It wasn’t until she’d aggressively swallowed my cock three times that I noticed—one of our daughter’s hands was on the base of my cock, while the other was between her legs.

Mary was getting off as Belle choked on my cock, mascara running down her face. Her lipstick was smeared on my cock—she looked like a porn star. My daughter looked like a dirty teenage whore.

“I’m cumming,” I gasped, and Belle’s eyes widened. I heard a buzzing sound—I have no idea when Mary had grabbed a vibrator, but even over the choking noise, I could hear the persistent hum as she held it against our daughter’s clit.

With a loud groan, I thrust forward. I’d intended to be gentle, but in the heat of the moment, I lost control. As I pumped a load of my semen down my daughter’s throat, a gurgling sound joined the gagging and humming sounds, and I watched as Belle reached her second orgasm in fifteen minutes, an additional string of semen flying out of my cock, mixing with her smeared makeup.

“Oh, god…”

“Oh, _god_ …” my wife mirrored. “Andrew…”

“Mary, honey…I’m so sorry.”

I reached down and wiped the semen out of my daughter’s eyes.

“Honey, I’m…—“

“Andrew,” my wife interrupted. Belle’s eyes were shining with a mix of tears and pure joy. “Andrew…that was _amazing_.”


	Chapter 16

By the time my wife’s body returned, we’d cleaned up. Mary had managed to get a quick shower in, though she’d failed to convince me to join her.

I couldn’t. I’d seen more of my daughter’s naked, blushing, sweaty, pulsating body than a father should ever see.

I could hardly bring myself to look her in the eyes.

When Belle returned, I forced myself to act normal, but on the inside…

Truly, I wanted to die.

The feeling of my daughter’s mouth around my cock, the sucking noises her mouth had made, the choking, the gulping as she swallowed my seed.

I knew that I’d be having nightmares about it until my final days.

Worst of all—worse even than the physical transgression—was the fact that it had gotten me off.

Any decent father wouldn’t have been able to get hard, let alone cum. Any man with even a hint of morality wouldn’t have been able to maintain an erection as his naked teenage daughter seduced him, forced his throat down her cock and rubbed herself to orgasm.

God. What was wrong with me?

“I got the dress,” my wife’s voice rang out. “Belle? Honey?”

“Hi Mom,” Mary said chirpily, our daughter’s hair wet from the shower. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god! You _got_ it?”

“Yup! And you know what that means?”

On a normal evening, Mary and I would have made confused eye-contact. Tonight, however, I couldn’t bring myself to look at my daughter’s face.

I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to again.

“Fashion show!” Belle said cheerfully, and my wife clapped my daughter’s hands enthusiastically.

“You hear that, Andrew? Fashion show!”

“Please,” I said, in a chilly voice. “Don’t call me Andrew.”

“Sorry _Dad_ ,” Mary said, rolling our daughter’s eyes. “Come on! You know you want to see the fashion show.”

“I really, really don’t,” I said, ignoring the disappointed look on both my girls’ faces as I went straight to bed.

* * *

As I predicted, I had a nightmare that evening. I dreamt that the police raided our house, and stormed in on Belle giving me head. My wife was there, in her own body, using her vibrators as she watched.

“Do it, Andrew,” she hissed. Despite being back in her own body, she still had Belle’s voice.

I woke up in a sweat. I could feel the sensations of Belle’s mouth around my cock.

Maybe I’d always feel it.

For the next few hours, I drifted in and out of nightmares, all of them involving my daughter’s body. Her tits, her cunt, her mouth.

I eventually gave up on sleep and got out of bed.

My parents have a cabin, about forty minutes out of town. We go there in the summer; just me, Mary, and Belle. (Ben goes to Space Camp instead.) When she was a kid, Belle loved it—camping, fishing, swimming in the lake.

Ever since her rebellious phase started, our visits have grown shorter and shorter. Belle refers to it as her ‘summer punishment’—privately, Mary and I have started referring to it as ‘hell-trip’. Our daughter’s attitude has managed to suck every vestige of joy out of the vacation.

This year, we were seriously considering not going.

I’m not suggesting that Mary’s plan is some kind of magic miracle, poised to solve every problem we’ve ever had, but it had certainly given me hope—with the changes we’d seen just in the last few days, I was starting to wonder if the cabin trip was back on the table.

Slipping into our daughter’s bedroom, I gently shook her awake.

“Andrew?” she said groggily. Her eyes focused, then darkened with lust. “ _Andrew_ …”

Mary tried to pull me in for a kiss, but I pushed her away.

“Honey,” I said. “I need to clear my head. I’m going to spend a day at the cabin, okay? I just…I need some space.”

My wife began to respond, but I put one finger on her lips.

On our daughter’s lips.

Our daughter’s lips which, just a few hours ago…

I shuddered.

“I really need it, okay? Please don’t argue. I’m going to leave a note—if Belle says anything, cover for me. Please?”

“Mmm,” she responded. She was clearly still half-asleep.

“I’ll see you when I get back, okay?”

“Okay…”

* * *

There’s something so very peaceful about driving at night. The streets are empty, the city is dark. Even the car seems quieter, somehow.

Shortly after arriving at the cabin, I fell into a dreamless sleep. When I awoke, I felt better than I had in days.

I spent the morning fishing. I really should have gotten some work in—while the cabin didn’t have wifi, I’d brought my laptop and enough files to get some work done offline.

Instead, I fished. I fished, and I thought.

It had been one week since Mary and Belle had swapped bodies, and I had to admit—it was working. Already, my daughter was starting to see the other side of the situation.

Again, I knew it wasn’t a miracle cure…but it _was_ clear that she was gaining more empathy, more understanding of what we wanted from her as parents.

She could see why we behaved the way we did. That it was out of love.

Similarly, the insights that Mary was getting—they were invaluable. I’d had no idea about Belle’s drug-dealing boyfriend, her loneliness…her hormones.

My brain instinctively wanted to avoid that topic, but I forced myself to focus on it.

Belle’s hormones.

It was clear that Mary was struggling. If she’d gone on that date last night…

I shuddered at the thought. I wasn’t keen on the idea of my daughter having sex. I was especially not keen on the idea of my _wife_ having sex while in our daughter’s body.

No, it was obvious that Mary needed help. And so, as much as it disgusted me…I had to help her.

I had to.

Seven more days. For one more week, I could put my own inclinations aside, and do what needed to be done for my wife.

Seven days.

* * *

I decided to work through the afternoon before heading home. You can’t underestimate the value of working with no internet—no notifications constantly popping up, no social media to distract you.

Having spent half a day fishing, I needed to catch up. With Freecell as the only temptation available to me, I was able to power through and accomplish quite a lot in just a few hours.

When I closed my laptop, my stomach was grumbling. There was no food in the cabin, only coffee, and all I’d thought to bring with me was a packet of Doritos.

I stood up, stretched, and prepared to drive home.

As I opened the door to the cabin, I was shocked to find my teenage daughter staring at me, her hand raised, ready to knock on the door.

She was wearing the new dress.

“Hi, honey,” she purred, reaching out and grabbing my crotch. “I’ve been thinking about you all day…”


	Chapter 17

“Mary,” I said firmly, grabbing my daughter’s hand and moving it away from my genitalia. “I want to talk”

“Okay…” my wife replied, narrowing Belle’s eyes slightly.

“I know what you need.”

The sight of my daughter’s face lighting up made me pause. For several years now, that had been a rare occurrence.

“I know what you need,” I smiled back at her, “and I’m prepared to give it to you.”

“Oh, Andrew! Oh my god, honey, _yes_. Please! I’m so happy that you…—“

I held up my hand, and my wife fell silent.

“You need stimulation,” I said, looking into my daughter’s blue eyes. “You need stimulation, and…well, after a lot of thinking, I’ve decided: I can do that for you.”

Mary clearly wanted to speak, but I didn’t allow her to interrupt.

“You know how difficult I’m finding this, but I love you. I love you, and I know that you’re finding it just as hard.”

“Andrew…—“

“I’m prepared to touch you,” I concluded. “I love you, and so even though it goes against everything I believe, I’m prepared to touch you. Down _there_.”

Mary nodded, looking at me expectantly. As the pause stretched on, she wrinkled our daughter’s nose.

“That’s it?”

I raised one eyebrow.

“‘It’? Honey, that’s a _lot_.”

It still surprised me, seeing my wife’s expressions on my daughter’s face. Her classic ‘unimpressed’ glare had appeared, and it was aimed at me with full force.

“Andrew, darling, I…I need more than that.”

I froze.

“More?”

“Yes, honey. More.”

I grimaced.

“Mary, my love, I don’t think you…—”

“No, Andrew,” my wife interrupted. “I don’t think that _you_.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We’d down this path before, so many times in just the last weeks. I didn’t want to get in another shouting match.

Especially since they always seemed to end in me losing.

“Okay,” I said, with a deep breath. “I…what do you want?”

Belle’s eyes sparked, and Mary’s wry smile appeared on her face.

Again, she reached down and grabbed my cock through my pants.

“This.”

“You _had_ that,” I said, wishing I sounded less whiny. “Last night…”

“More,” my wife said, Belle’s voice thick with lust. “Oh god, Andrew. Please. I need more.”

I silently counted to ten.

Mary was doing so much for us. For our daughter.

For our family.

I knew she was struggling. I knew she needed me.

But…I couldn’t.

_Seven more days._

“Okay,” I sighed. “How about…twice more?”

“Twice?”

The tone of disgust was back.

“Twice is a lot!” I said. The whine was back as well.

Mary looked up at me, and I could see Belle’s eyes were beginning to water.

“You promised once a day,” she said plaintively.

“Yes, but…—“

“I was back at school today,” she continued. “Honey. You don’t know what that’s like.”

“I know, but…—“

Now it was Mary’s turn to not let me speak.

“I didn’t wear a bra,” she whispered.

“What!? Mary, that’s…—“

“I know. I _know_. It was just so hot. God, Andrew. Our daughter is _so hot_.”

I glanced down at my daughter’s chest, and immediately wished that I hadn’t.

She was obviously _still_ not wearing a bra.

“All those teenage eyes, looking at me. Lusting after me. Wanting me.”

“Mary, we’re trying to…—“

“I know what we’re trying to, Andrew. I really do. But last night…it got me so worked up. Your cock. My mouth. _Belle’s_ mouth. God, it felt…—.”

“Mary, if we…—“

“ _I know_. But after Saturday, after the beach…the feeling of all those eyes on me. It’s intoxicating. Have you ever felt like an entire room of people want you?”

I was forced to shake my head.

“I’m in my forties, darling. Belle is at her peak. Look at her!”

Mary gestured to our daughter’s body. My eyes instinctively followed the motion, and immediately wished that they hadn’t.

My wife was right. Our daughter is absolutely stunning. I would have given anything not to have known that, to have spent the rest of my years without ever noticing what a looker Belle was. She was…she was _sexy_. I hated admitting it, but it was true. My daughter was sexy. It was as simple as that.

And now that it had been pointed out, now that I’d…seen her _do things_ …

I was worried that I’d never be able to _un_ -notice.

“I got asked out three times today,” Mary said softly. “I could be on a date right now, getting all my needs taken care of by someone who doesn’t give a fuck about our daughter. But I’m here with _you_.”

“You don’t get points for _not_ fucking a high-schooler,” I said weakly.

A huge grin slowly spread across Belle’s face.

“I know.” my wife said, and pulled my mouth to our daughter’s.

I gently moved my hands to Belle’s shoulders and pushed her away.

“Honey,” I said.

She rolled her eyes and balled her fists. I’m surprised she didn’t stamp her foot. For a moment, I could see Belle as she’d been as a toddler, threatening a tantrum if she didn’t get her way.

“ _What?_ ” she asked, gesturing around. “This is _perfect_. We’re a thousand miles from civilization…—“

“Sixty,” I corrected.

“…and no one knows that we’re here. We have _zero_ chance of getting caught. What excuse can you possibly have for _not_ wanting to fuck me?”

My eyes widened as my wife’s words sunk in.

“Wait. What?”

“No one will ever know,” she said, slumping against the doorframe. “And…I need it. God, Andrew. I _need_ it.”

“Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait…Mary. Sweetie. We never talked about…”

“I know we never talked about,” Mary said, a desperate look in my daughter’s eyes. “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We can _never_ do that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t do that to Belle. I can’t…Jesus! Mary, You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” my wife said. Belle’s blue eyes were staring intently into mine. “I really, really wish I wasn’t.”

I stepped back into the cabin and sat down at my desk. My stomach was churning in a combination of hunger and horror.

“Mary, think about what you’re saying. You’re having trouble with our daughter’s hormones…”

“Understatement,” Mary muttered.

“…and so you want me to _take her virginity_?”

“No!”

“Then…”

My eyes widened.

“Wait. Mary. Is…”

“No no no.” My wife used our daughter’s hand to wave my concerns away. “No, Belle is a virgin. If she wasn’t, I’d know about it.”

“How?”

“Her diary, for one.”

I quickly decided that I didn’t want to hear what other methods my wife had.

“Then what do you mean?”

Belle’s eyes darted around the room, avoiding mine.

“Mary?”

“What do you know about…hymens.”

I closed my eyes.

“I don’t think I want to know.”

“Andrew, I was…exploring.”

“Okay.”

“Down there.”

“Okay. Okay.”

I tried very hard to think about anything else in the known universe.

“I couldn’t find Belle’s…hymen.”

“Right. Okay. Okay. Cool. Good.”

“I’m just saying!”

I opened my eyes. Mary was wringing Belle’s hands. My daughter’s eyes were still avoiding mine.

“She’s never had sex, but _physically_ …”

I took a deep breath.

“When we switch back,” Mary continued, “she won’t remember a thing. She’ll have no idea what I did in her body. She doesn’t even know it’s me, remember?”

“Okay.”

“If we were to…I’m just saying.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“She’d have no memory of it.”

“Mary…”

“Think about it, Andrew. If we were to have sex, she wouldn’t _know_. As far as she was concerned, she’d still be a virgin.”

“Mary…jesus…”

“She’d have no memory of having sex, and she’d have no physical evidence. She wouldn’t know.”

“ _I’d know,_ ” I hissed.

“I know! Andrew. I know. I realize how hard this is for you. But…”

I reopened my eyes. My daughter’s body was standing in front of me.

“Once a day. You promised me.”

“I never promised that I would _fuck our daughter_.”

Mary looked up at me. The grin was back.

“You don’t get points for _not_ fucking a high-schooler,” she said softly.

“Mary…”

“You’re not,” Mary said simply. She sat on my lap and put our daughter’s arms around me. “Honey, you’re not. You’re not fucking a teenager, our daughter. It’s still me. You’d be fucking me.”

I sighed.

“You’d be fucking me,” my wife said again. “That’s all I want. Please. I just want to make love with my husband. Just once. I need it.”

She looked me in the eyes.

“Just once?” I said, not believing the words coming out of my mouth.

“Just once,” she said. “That’s all I need.”


	Chapter 18

My wife’s expression on my daughter’s face when I nodded was…well, I’ll never forget it.

Disbelief. Gratitude. Excitement.

Arousal.

She didn’t hesitate, not even for a moment. She pulled me onto the bed, unzipped my pants, and pulled out my erection.

I was horrified to discover I was hard. God. What was _wrong_ with me?

As she pulled her new dress off, I closed my eyes. I knew I couldn’t block out the sounds, the feeling, but…I could try.

I’d seen my daughter’s naked form more than I’d ever wanted. I’d be happy to never, ever see it again.

I opened one eye as I felt my daughter’s mouth envelop my erection.

“Honey,” I croaked. “Please. Let’s…”

“Of course,” my wife said, in my daughter’s voice. Her blue eyes looked up at me. I shut my eye again, before her tits could come into view.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Andrew,” I said through gritted teeth. “For the love of god, Mary—call me _Andrew_.”

“Of course,” Mary said. Her voice was shaking. She wrapped one of our daughter’s hands around my cock—it throbbed in response.

_Ellen,_ I tried to tell myself. _Ellen, Ellen, Ellen, Ellen._

But even with my eyes closed, all I could see was my daughter’s naked form.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I lied. I’d never be ready. I’d never be ready, and I’d never be the same. No part of me wanted what was going to happen.

My cock throbbed again, making me a liar.

“I’m ready.”

It had been more than twenty years since I’d had sex with anyone but my wife. We’ve spent more than twenty years getting to know each other’s bodies, learning exactly how to get each other off, learning what to do to make the other cum.

I never thought I’d be with anyone else. I’d never _wanted_ to be with anyone else.

_So why did it feel so good?_

I could feel the heat as my daughter’s wetness moved into position. My cock felt like it was going to burst.

I couldn’t remember ever being so hard.

Perhaps if I hadn’t _seen_ her naked form, it would have been easier. But all I could do as she lowered herself onto my erection was picture what it must look like—my daughter’s lithe body, her legs, her flushed skin…

I shuddered.

But my erection stayed strong.

I could feel my wife’s quivers of pleasure as my cock head parted the lips of our daughter’s pussy. My eyes were tightly shut, my fists were clenched, and my dick felt like it was made of steel.

All of a sudden…I was inside her.

I was inside my teenage daughter.

My cock was inside my Belle, my sweet baby girl.

And as much as I didn’t want it to…holy. Fucking. Shit.

It felt _amazing_.

Sex with my wife has always, always been good. She knows my body as well as I know hers.

Over the last week, I’d slowly come to terms with the fact that my daughter was gorgeous. Hot. She was no longer my little girl—she was now a woman.

My wife’s sexual prowess, combined with my daughter’s perfect body…

It was the single most incredible feeling I’d ever had.

I wanted to throw up.

My daughter’s hands were on my chest, supporting herself as she began to rock back and forth on my cock. My wife’s words were coming out of her mouth—a mix of babble and dirty talk.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh god, yes, fuck me. Fuck me fuck me _fuck me_. Fuck me, Daddy…”

My eyes shot open at the last word, and dear god do I wish that they hadn’t.

The feeling was amazing, but the _view_ …

In an instant, I knew that my days of seeing Belle as my sweet little girl were over. She was biting her lip, her eyes closed as the stream of sexual mutterings left her mouth.

Her nipples were hard, and her breasts bounced each time she rocked back and forth.

Unable to help myself, I glanced down to where my pelvis met hers.

There was no blood, thank goodness. I literally don’t think I would have been able to live with myself if there had been blood.

About half of my cock was inside her. Her pink pussy was obscenely stretched around it; it felt as though my erection was as deep as it was going to get.

When I had sex in this position with Mary, she would typically bounce up and down. I’d thrust my hips to her rhythm, and before long we’d be cumming in unison, my seed shooting inside her as she climaxed around my cock.

In Belle’s body, my wife was just rocking hypnotically back and forth. I didn’t know if the change was because of how it felt, or because it was Belle’s first time, and I didn’t much feel like asking.

“Fuck me Daddy fuck me Daddy fuck me Daddy _fuck me Daddy_ …”

“Mary,” I said warningly, but she couldn’t hear me.

“FUCK! Me! Daddy!”

“ _Mary,_ ” I repeated loudly, but before I could finish my thought, I felt it.

Belle was cumming.

Her eyes opened wide and rolled back in her head. Her jaw went slack, her hands grabbed my chest so hard that I knew they’d leave a mark…

And her beautiful, perfect pink pussy started clenching my cock, as though trying to milk an orgasm out of me.

I wanted to.

God help me, I wanted to cum. A sexual goddess was naked on top of me, climaxing around my cock.

It wouldn’t have taken much for me to reach orgasm, to fill my daughter’s cunt with my seed.

But I didn’t.

After Ben, I’d gotten a vasectomy, so there was no risk of Belle getting pregnant. But still…I couldn’t.

I _couldn’t_.

With all the strength, with all the effort I had, I closed my eyes and thought of England, so to speak.

When I could feel Belle’s orgasm subsiding, I opened my eyes.

“Honey…” I said gently, but my wife wasn’t listening.

She was staring down at me as if in a daze. As we made eye-contact again, she once more began rocking back and forth—faster this time. Almost frenzied.

For the next twenty minutes, I stared into my daughter’s blue eyes as she came again and again and again. With each orgasm, more of my cock slipped inside her.

Inside my daughter.

Inside my daughter’s cunt.

She stopped talking. She stopped babbling. She just rode me silently, her eyes alight with desire, cumming around my cock so many times I lost count.

Finally, she began to calm down. Belle is in good shape, but riding someone like that…it must take a lot. It was a workout for specific muscles, muscles that I was fairly sure our teenage daughter had never exercised.

“Honey?”

“Oh my _god,_ ” she sighed. Her eyes focused for the first time since we started, meeting mine. The crazed look was gone. “Honey, that was…”

“Amazing,” I smiled, and she threw her head back in agreement. She was still rocking Belle’s hips back and forth, but when I reached up and rested my hands on them, she stopped.

“Do you want a break?” she asked, and I nodded.

As she pulled herself off me, a groan escaped my lips. It felt so fucking _good_.

The cabin stank of sex, and as I stood up, I noticed that the curtains were open.

The sight of the woods brought me back to reality.

“Jesus,” I said.

“I _know_ ,” my wife agreed fervently.

“No, Mary—look.”

The sun was setting, and as my daughter’s eyes followed my finger, a bird flew past the window.

“Beautiful.”

“Mary, _anyone_ could have passed by. A park ranger, a neighbor. A cop!”

“Come back to bed,” she slurred in response. “We’re not done yet…”

“Yes are _are_ ,” I snapped, picking up Belle’s dress and throwing it at her. “For heaven’s sake, Mary—if we screw up, I don’t just get a slap on the wrist. This will destroy our family _forever_. I’ll go to prison, and Belle…”

My heart leapt to my throat at the thought.

“Belle will _know_. She’ll know what we did. She’ll know that you used her body, and…and…”

I gestured between Belle’s legs.

“We can’t. We _can’t_ risk that. Never again.”

Belle’s eyes were watering, but my wife didn’t object.

“Get dressed. We’re going home.”


	Chapter 19

The drive home was quiet. It took several minutes for my wife to muster up the strength to cover our daughter’s body once more. Even after several minutes of driving, she would still sporadically twitch with pleasure.

For my part, I couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid we’d been. How stupid _I’d_ been.

Fucking my daughter was bad enough. I knew that the images—the sensations—would be permanently burned into my brain. But doing it in broad daylight, with the curtains open?

_Anyone_ could have seen. And it would just take one glimpse, one rumor to…

No.

God.

We were doing this for our family. We were doing this for _Belle_. I knew it was hard for my wife, but we had to be safe.

We had to be _smart_.

And that meant we couldn’t fool around. Not even so much as a kiss. If someone saw—if Belle saw…

It wasn’t worth the risk.

* * *

When we got home, Belle (in my wife’s body) was in the kitchen. No one in our family is much of a cook (we order out a lot) but I could see that Belle had made an effort. Some kind of pasta bake. It looked like she’d even attempted to include a vegetable or two.

“What’s the special occasion?” I asked, trying to force a jovial tone. Trying to think about anything besides my daughter’s cunt, twitching with pleasure as she came around me again and again.

Belle sat my wife’s body down next to mine, and grabbed my hand. It felt…natural. Normal. Nice.

Had my wife switched back? Had my words gotten through to her, and she’d realized that I was right, that we _couldn’t_ be doing this? Had she given in?

“Da—…t’s a good question,” she said, clumsily turning ‘Dad’ into a different word. A word that doesn’t even start with the same letter.

Nope. My wife was still my daughter, and my daughter was still my wife.

“Oh?” I said, re-plastering the smile onto my face.

“Yeah,” she said, and sighed.

Oh, shit.

Did she know? Had she…had she somehow seen?

I took a deep breath, and realized how stupid I was being. No, after catching her former body having sex with _her father_ , I was sure that Belle’s first reaction wouldn’t be to bake a casserole.

I felt like I was going mad.

Sitting patiently, I waited for her to muster up the courage to say whatever she was going to say.

Sitting patiently, I tried desperately not to think about my erection, so recently buried in my daughter’s wet, quivering pussy.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Belle said, closing one of her mother’s eyes. I remember our daughter doing that when she was just learning to talk, as though that one eyelid would magically hide her from the world, while letting her keep an eye on the other person’s reaction. “And it’s not going to be easy.”

“Of course,” I said, my voice calm, my mind determinedly not thinking about our daughter’s perfect, bouncing tits as she rode me.

“I just want to say…I’m sorry.”

I blinked twice. For a brief moment, Belle’s words had actually distracted me from remembering the warm, wet feeling of my daughter’s pussy lips sliding down my cock.

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry.”

I hadn’t actually been counting, but it felt like it had been approximately eight hundred years since I’d actually heard my daughter apologize.

Of course, she thought I thought she was still my wife. I knew I had to play along.

“For what?”

“I know I can sometimes be difficult,” she said, clearly choosing her words carefully. Apologizing to her father while pretending to be her mother. I imagined it wasn’t an easy task.

“True,” I said with a smile.

“But I know that you work hard. And I know that…”

Belle sighed, and I suddenly noticed a tear running down my wife’s cheek.

“…I know that you love me. And, y’know. I just wanted to say…I love you too.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I was all choked up.

“I love you,” I eventually said, more gruffly than I’d expected.

“Come here,” she said, sniffing, and before I knew what was happening, my wife’s arms were wrapped around me as my daughter pulled me into a hug.

It was a touching moment (literally), but the mood was quickly shattered.

You see, even after half an hour of being ridden by a buxom, horny teenager, I still hadn’t come. I mean, how could I?

I couldn’t.

I _couldn’t_.

But the images seemed to be permanently burned into my brain.

And so I was…I was still hard.

Just hours ago, my wife—in my daughter’s body—had felt my erection buried deep inside her.

Now, my daughter—in my wife’s body—had inadvertently felt it press against her as she pulled me into a hug.

“Oh my GOD,” she shrieked. “DAD!!!”

I gawped at her, speechless. In that moment, the entirety of the English language escaped me. I remembered the words ‘buh’ and ‘fluh’, but decided not to bring either of those out right now. Neither of them seemed appropriate.

Before my vocabulary could begin to rebuild, Belle realized what she’d done.

“Uh. Uh. Uh. Dad,” she repeated, I could almost hear the gears grinding. “…called. My Dad called. He said Ben is having a great time at Code Camp.”

For the past few days, our son had been staying with Mary’s parents, going to a special camp for ‘junior coders’. Maybe her Dad really had called—that was a conversation I would have loved to hear. Belle pretending to be Mary, speaking to her father/grandfather.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly remembering how to talk. “That’s great. That’s great, honey. Thanks for letting me know. Thanks.”

“Igottagonow,” my daughter said in a quick breath, and before I could muster up a reply, my wife’s body was dashing out of the room.

Fuck. _Fuck_. As if fucking my fucking daughter wasn’t enough, now I’d…

I shuddered.

I’d pressed my erection against her. Against my daughter. The real one. She’d have a memory of that for the rest of her life.

As would I.

This was not my day.

And as Mary sauntered Belle’s body into the room, I somehow knew it was about to get worse.


	Chapter 20

“Everything okay?” Mary said, a smile upon Belle’s face. She was dressed in a tank top and jeans.

She looked surprisingly relaxed, and I suddenly realized where she’d been for the last half-hour.

And what she’d been doing.

“Yes,” I said gruffly. I now knew what my daughter’s orgasm looked like. _Felt_ like. It was impossible not to picture it as I made eye-contact with Belle.

With my wife, in Belle’s body.

I just wanted this to go away. I wanted to look at my daughter and see my _daughter_. Like I used to. I wanted to look at her and see a young woman, about to start her life.

I didn’t want my mind to immediately see her bouncing tits, her flushed face.

I didn’t want to remember what her lips looked like, stretched around my cock.

Her throat moving, as she urgently swallowed my cum.

I shuddered.

“I have a plan,” she began, speaking more loudly than I would have liked.

“Mary…” I said weakly, but she ignored my protest and kept talking. With a sigh, I got up and locked the door.

I didn’t know what my wife was going to say, but I was confident that neither of us wanted Belle to walk in halfway through it.

“Tomorrow, I’ll come home from school early. We’ll turn the house alarm on, and use your office. If Belle comes home early, she’ll trigger the alarm, and we’ll have plenty of warning—there’s no chance of her catching us. If she asks, you can just say that you turned it on by accident. She’ll believe that.”

She laughed. My wife’s laugh, coming out of my daughter’s beautiful lips.

Those beautiful lips that I’d cum _into_.

“I mean, I’d believe it,” she finished. “What do you say?”

There was a brief silence as I stared at my wife. Belle’s eyes were brimming with hope.

“…what?”

“If you’d prefer, we can say that I turned it on, but I don’t know why we’d do that. I guess we could just say it was a bug.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The alarm.”

“No, I mean…this plan. What are you on about?”

Belle’s eyes narrowed.

“Which part of that didn’t you understand, Andrew?”

Oh, god. It was my wife’s stern voice.

“What are we _doing_?”

“We’re discussing the plan for tomorrow.”

“The plan to do what?”

She looked up at me with my daughter’s big blue eyes. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

“To fuck.”

“What??”

“To fuck,” she said again. As the dirty word left my sweet daughter’s formerly-innocent lips, another shudder overcame me.

“What do you mean, to fuck?”

A smile flickered across her face, and she leaned forward.

She still wasn’t wearing a bra.

“What do you think I mean?” she said, her eyes glancing down at my crotch. “Have a wild guess…”

“Honey,” I said gently. “We…we can’t do that again.”

“What?”

The stern voice was back.

“We agreed, remember? Back…” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “…back at the cottage.”

“Yeah,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “We _did_ agree.”

“Right.” I was confused. “So…”

“You promised me.”

I narrowed my eyes. Was she deliberately being obtuse?

“We agreed,” I repeated. “One time.”

My wife responded slowly, as though speaking to an imbecile.

“That’s right, honey. We agreed. One time. And I would like that one time to be tomorrow. So when I get home from school, I’ll…”

I held a hand up, and was surprised when Mary fell silent.

“No no no no no no no no no,” I said. “The one time was at the cottage.”

Mary scrunched up Belle’s nose.

“ _That?_ ”

“Yes, that! And then, like I said, _we can never do it again._ ”

“But…—“

“And I mean, even _that_ was a stupid move. What if someone had caught us, honey? What if someone had walked past and seen the owner of the cabin _fucking his own daughter_.”

I hissed the last few words, and then slumped back, exhausted. The past few days…the past _week_ had been too much for me. I was spent.

Spent, and frustratingly turned-on.

Mary waited to make sure that I was done before she spoke.

“ _That_ ,” she said, softly but firmly, “didn’t count.”

I sat up.

“ _What?_ ”

“That didn’t count!”

“What do you _mean_ it didn’t count? Mary, are…have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”

“It didn’t count,” she repeated, and jutted her lip out, every inch of her the typical rebellious teenager.

The typical rebellious teenager, trying to fuck her father.

“Okay,” I said. Now it was my turn to speak slowly. “How did it…not count?”

“I told you, I need to be fucked. I _need_ it, honey.”

“Yes, but…—“

“I need to be _fucked_. And don’t get me wrong, it was great. It really was. You know I had a good time.”

Closing my eyes, I nodded.

“But you just…you just lay there.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“You didn’t fuck me, honey. You just sort of just lay on the bed.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. After a moment of thought, I closed it again.

“You lay there while I did all the work.”

I shrugged, refusing to admit that she was right.

“So?”

“So I told you—this is harder than I thought it would be. It’s harder than either of us thought it would be. I get the urge to play with myself every twenty minutes and I picture myself wrapped around every guy I see. Whenever someone checks me out, I find myself thrusting my chest out and giving them sex eyes.”

“Belle’s chest,” I muttered. My wife was really starting to worry me.

“I _know_ it’s Belle’s chest, honey. I know it is. But I’ve been in this body for a week now. It’s really starting to feel like it’s mine.”

“It’s not.”

My wife sighed, and rolled our daughter’s eyes.

“Yes! I know it’s not my body. But I’m inside it, twenty-four hours a day. If Belle’s nose gets itchy, I’m the one who has to scratch it.”

She leaned forward, and I very pointedly refused to glance down at her cleavage.

“ _I’m the one who has to scratch it,_ Andrew. That’s what I’m asking for help with. I need you to help me scratch her itch, or I think I’m going to go crazy.”

Mary is a woman of many, many talents, and persuasiveness has always been at the top of the list.

I shook my head nonetheless.

“It’s too risky,” I said. “Honey, you know it is. It’s too risky.”

“ _You owe me_.”

“That’s not what this is about,” I said, staring her straight in the eyes. “I’m not a prostitute, my love. You can’t haggle your way into making me fuck you. I don’t care if I did just lay there, that’s not how this works. That’s not what it’s about.”

Belle’s eyes were beginning to water, but I pressed on.

“I know that you have needs, and I know that you need help relieving them. I’m going to do what I can to help, but…I can’t fuck you. I can’t.”

I continued, trying not to notice my voice cracking as I spoke.

“I love you. I love you more than anything. And I love Belle. But you can’t tell me that the only way you’re going to feel relief is if I fuck you, honey. If it’s really that bad, if you’re that out of control…maybe it’s time to switch back.”

A tear rolled down my daughter’s cheek, but she never looked away. There was a long silence, as we maintained eye-contact.

Then, to my surprise, she nodded.

“You’re right,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “God, Andrew…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t explain it. It’s like a frenzy. It’s like there’s a thousand ants under my skin, trying to escape from my…”

She gestured between our daughter’s legs. I didn’t glance down for a second.

“Puberty,” I said with a half-shrug. She laughed.

“Yeah. I just…I just want your help keeping them at bay. It’s all-consuming, my love. It really is. But you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, and pulled her in for a hug. “I know it’s hard.”

Remembering the hug I’d just given, I made sure to position myself so that Mary wouldn’t feel my erection as we embraced.

I couldn’t help but jump as Belle’s hand reached down and found it anyway.

“It _is_ hard,” she growled playfully. “Let’s see what we can do about that…”

Never before had I been so unexcited to hear my wife talking dirty.

“Mary, what did we _just_ discuss?”

“I get that you can’t fuck me. I don’t necessarily agree, but I respect it. You’re right. It’s risky.”

“ _Yes,_ ” I sighed.

“But what did you say? ‘Anything else you can do to help’?”

“Something like that,” I muttered. I didn’t like where this was going.

“So…don’t fuck me! There’s a lot of other stuff we can do instead…”


	Chapter 21

It felt like the silence went on forever.

It was probably just a few minutes, but my mind was racing, and my wife was refusing to speak.

She stared at me with our daughter’s beautiful face, my cock in our daughter’s beautiful hand as I contemplated my options.

I couldn’t fuck my daughter again. I just couldn’t. It was so wrong, on so many levels. SO many levels.

Irregardless of how amazing it had felt, sex was completely off the table. It had to be.

But…well, my wife needed me. She was doing this for our daughter. She was doing so much.

The least I could do was meet her halfway.

“Okay,” I said, breaking the silence. My daughter’s face lit up.

“Okay??”

“Yeah,” I said. “Tomorrow, after school. Set the alarm, okay?”

“Okay,” my wife said back to me.

I knew that I’d do anything to make her eyes fill with that look of love. Belle—and Mary, of course—are the most important things in the world to me, and I knew I’d do anything to keep them happy and safe.

Well, almost anything.

* * *

When my daughter’s body arrived home from school the next day, I was disappointed to notice that she again wasn’t wearing a bra.

Disappointed both that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that it was noticeable.

“Mary…” I said, but she held up a hand and cut me off.

“Andrew,” she said, moving towards me. “We only have so much time before Belle gets home. I really don’t want to waste it fighting with you.”

I dropped it. She had a point. 

“What do you want to do?” I asked. A grin crossed our daughter’s face.

“What’s on the table?”

“Anything,” I said reluctantly. I’d spent all night thinking about it. Mary was doing so much for us, for our daughter. For our family. It was only fair that I do my share.

“ _Anything?_ ”?

“Not that,” I said, throwing her a glance. “Anything else.”

“Very well,” she said, sitting on the couch.

I meant it, too. Aside _that_ , I was willing to do whatever my wife requested. I wouldn’t enjoy it, but it was what Mary needed.

Well, I hoped I wouldn’t enjoy it.

I really, really hoped I wouldn’t enjoy it.

“I know what I want,” she said, after a pause.

“Oh?”

“I want you to watch me.”

I waited for the end of the sentence, but it never arrived.

“What?”

“I want you to watch me,” Mary repeated, Belle’s eyes burning into mine.

“Okay…”

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she said, leaning back on the couch in my office. “I’ve been thinking about it all week…”

I sat down on my office chair, confused and grateful. Confused about exactly what I was going to watch, and grateful that Mary didn’t want me to…

Well, there was a long list of what I was grateful Mary didn’t want me to do.

Watching? Watching, I was okay with.

My daughter’s eyes never left mine, as my wife reached down and began unbuttoning Belle’s shirt.

Obviously my instinct was to look away, but that wasn’t the deal. Mary wanted me to watch, and so—loathe though I was to look at my daughter’s naked form yet again—I watched.

I hated to admit it—I really, really hated to admit it—but Belle’s tits were the finest I’d ever seen. Even in her hay-day, my wife’s breasts had never stood quite so proudly on her chest. 

To my annoyance, I could feel my cock starting to stiffen in my pants.

A better man would have been able to watch his daughter undress without getting aroused, but…god, I just couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just how perfect they were, either. Seeing them reminded me of what I’d seen…what we’d done.

What we were probably going to do again.

“Do you like these, Daddy?”

I grimaced at the term.

“Mary, what are…”

“Shhh,” she said. “Honey. Please. You said anything.”

“Yes, but…”

“We only have an hour, Andrew. _Please._ ”

I shut up.

Mary and I had roleplayed once or twice, but it had never been anything particularly kinky. She’d been a stranger at the bar, or a frisky maid. She’d never shown any interest in…something like this.

“Do you like these, Daddy?” she repeated. I shifted uncomfortably on my seat.

Belle was the only person who’d ever called me Daddy. I knew it was a fairly common term of endearment, but none of my previous girlfriends had ever used it, nor had Mary.

Until now.

Hearing the word from my daughter’s mouth was…well, it made me uncomfortable. But what part of the situation didn’t?

“Tell me you like my tits, Daddy…”

With a sigh, I answered.

“I like your tits, sweetie.”

“Call me your baby girl.”

“ _Mary…_ ”

My wife shot me a glance. Even filtered through my daughter’s face, I knew exactly what it meant. And so, against my better judgment, I conceded.

“I like your tits…baby girl.”

Mary groaned, and grabbed Belle’s breasts. Every instinct was telling me to turn away, but I continued watching.

It was the least I could do.

“Do you want to cum on them?”

“Yes,” I replied immediately. Not because it was true, but because it seemed like a lifeline. Cumming on Belle’s tits…just the idea was morally repugnant, but it seemed a lot more palatable than many of the alternatives.

I wasn’t going to fuck her. I didn’t want to touch her. And I’d watched my daughter swallow my cum once before; no part of me wanted to repeat the experience.

Cumming on her tits seemed like the lesser of about ninety-five different evils.

“You want to cum on your little girl’s tits?”

Belle’s voice was getting strained. Despite her hands not going anywhere near her pussy, it sounded like she was on the verge of cumming.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “Please. I want to cum on your tits. I…I want to cum on my little girl’s tits.”

“Oh, _god_.”

My wife pinched Belle’s nipples. Hard. 

A loud groan left my daughter’s mouth as she came, her body twitching, her pelvis pushing back against an imaginary intruder. I could see the waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

As instructed, I sat, and I watched.


	Chapter 22

As my wife slowly came down from our daughter’s orgasm, she smiled at me.

“God, Andrew…”

“I know,” I smiled back at her. “I know.”

I began to stand up, and a worried look crossed her face.

“Where are you going?”

My face fell.

“I thought…I thought that…”

“You thought that was _it_?”

Belle’s voice was shrill. She began to sit up, and I returned to my seat as quickly as was humanly possible.

“Of course not,” I lied. “I just…”

Mary shut our daughter’s eyes. She didn’t say anything, but I could see her lips moving—she was silently counting to ten.

When Belle’s gaze met mine again, my wife seemed calmer.

“What’s the time?” she asked.

I glanced at my watch.

“Half past four..”

“Good,” she said. “We still have a little while.”

I nodded, my heart sinking. Never before had ‘a little while’ struck such fear into my heart.

“Now,” she said, bringing Belle’s hands back up to her breasts, the fire returning to her eyes. “You were saying…”

“I want to cum on your tits,” I said, trying to inject passion into my voice. It had been foolish to think my wife would be done after a single orgasm—that may have been enough when this had all started, when I was making out with her under duress, but now…my daughter’s hormones seemed to be feeding into my wife’s sex drive.

It was like a feedback loop, whipping her into a frenzy.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Call me baby girl,” she repeated. It was a nickname I’d always used for Belle.

It made my stomach turn, but I couldn’t argue. I couldn’t.

I knew where that battle led.

“Play with yourself,” she pleaded.

Unzipping my pants, I pulled my hard cock into view. I tried not to enjoy the look on Belle’s face when she saw it.

I tried to remind myself—this was Mary. Mary, my wife. She was the one staring, entranced, at my erection. My wife was the one who wanted me to talk dirty to her.

Not my daughter. Not my sweet, innocent, eighteen-year old daughter.

It was my wife. It was like my wife was…wearing a costume. Dressing up as my daughter.

Mary was dressing up as Belle, calling me Daddy, and instructing me to call her ‘baby girl’.

I mean, as long as I kept that in mind, how weird could it get?

She moaned with pleasure as I followed her instructions, wrapping one hand around my cock, slowly pumping.

As I stroked my hand up and down my dick, Mary moved one of Belle’s hands between her legs. She lifted up her skirt, and it was immediately obvious that a bra wasn’t the only item of underwear she’d skipped that morning.

My wife had spent the day at school, in my daughter’s body, not wearing a bra or panties.

God, why did _that_ make me hard?

“Daddy, so many boys were looking at me today.”

I gulped. Now Mary was putting on a baby voice. What on earth had gotten into her?

“They were all looking at me, and I could tell they wanted to fuck me. All the boys at school wanted to fuck me, Daddy.”

I nodded, not sure what to say.

“They all saw my big tits, my long legs. I just wanted to unbutton my shirt and flash them, Daddy…”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

Mary shook our daughter’s head, a mischievous look on her face.

“No, Daddy. I was such a good girl.”

My cock twitched at her response.

“I was such a good girl for you. I know you don’t want me to fuck any of the boys at school, Daddy. I know you don’t want me to show off my tits for them.”

Belle’s hand was moving faster and faster between her legs. I matched her pace as I continued stroking her cock.

“My tits are for you, Daddy.”

I groaned.

“I’m your good little girl. My tits belong to you. I’m your baby girl.”

I was staring at Belle’s tits as she rubbed herself, Mary’s words seeping into my brain like poison. Despite the fact that she’d cum just a few minutes ago, I could again hear my daughter’s voice getting strained.

“I won’t fuck the boys at school, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” I muttered. I couldn’t help myself.

“I won’t let them cum on my titties,” Mary continued.

“Good girl…”

“I won’t let them use my hot teenage pussy…”

“Oh god, Mary…”

“ _Belle._ ”

“Belle,” I rasped. “Belle…you’re going to make me cum.”

Faster than I would have imagined she could move, Mary hoisted Belle’s body off the couch and kneeled in front of me. Her hand never left her wet pussy, and as she looked up at me, I could feel an orgasm approaching.

“I won’t let them fuck you, because I belong to you. I’m yours, Daddy. My body is yours.”

There’s something I haven’t mentioned. Mostly because it hasn’t been relevant, but partially because…well, I guess I find it a little embarrassing.

As Mary knows very well, I have a bit of a fetish. Nothing too wild…I suppose you could call it an ‘ownership’ fetish. My wife’s body ‘belonging to me’ has always been a part of our dirty talk. We’ve never gone beyond that—I know some people are into collars, or writing on each other. For us, it’s always just been talk.

I never thought she’d use it like this.

“I’m yours,” Mary moaned, staring up at me with our daughter’s blue eyes. “I belong to you. Cum onto my tits, Daddy. Mark me as your property. Show the world that I’m your baby girl, that you own me.

“Own me…”

With a grunt, I felt myself cumming—Belle’s eyes lit up as I aimed my offering at my daughter’s exposed tits.

My dick pulsed three times as I came, shooting my wad onto my daughter’s face and breasts. Most of my seed landed on her chest, but Mary leaned forward and caught my third shot on Belle’s face.

Breathing heavily, I leaned back and watched as my cum slowly began to slide down Belle’s huge tits. With a groan, she began to cum as well, her second orgasm of the afternoon.

Well, the second that I’d been witness to.

So far.

She collapsed backwards, laying on the floor, writhing and twitching with pleasure as she came.

When she was done, we both sat there in a comfortable silence. I could feel the guilt lurking in the corner of my mind, but I wasn’t letting it in. Not yet.

“Wow,” Mary said, propping herself up on Belle’s elbows. Her face and tits were splattered with my seed.

I wish I didn’t find that such a turn-on.

“Wow,” she repeated. “That was…”

Before she could finish her thought, we were interrupted by the loud beeping of the burglar alarm.


	Chapter 23

Belle’s eyes widened as the shrill beeping filled the room.

“Go get that!” she hissed. The baby-voice was gone—emerging from my daughter’s mouth, I recognized my wife’s ‘business’ tone.

“You’ve got…this?” I asked, gesturing at her chest. My cum was sliding down her long pink nipples, dripping onto the carpet.

“Yes!” she hissed again. “Just…don’t let her come in here, okay? It reeks.”

Mary was right. I hadn’t even noticed before, but my office stank of sex. The strong scent of my seed had mixed with the smell of my daughter’s pussy-juices, and virgin though she may have been (in mind, if no longer in body—either body), I’m sure Belle would have been suspicious of the resultant odor.

As quickly as I could, I returned my still-hard cock to my pants, fastened them, and walked into the hallway to find my wife’s body staring at the house alarm panel, a confused look on her face.

“Oh!” Belle said as I approached. “You’re home.”

“Sorry about this.” I said, flipping open the panel and disabling the alarm. “Must have forgotten to turn it back off again.”

To my relief, my wife’s eyes didn’t hold even a trace of suspicion. As always, Mary was right—Belle didn’t even question the idea that I’d somehow turn on the alarm and then slip into my office before triggering it.

Never before had I been so thankful for the low opinion the women in my life apparently had of me.

We stood in silence for a few moments. My heart was still racing at the idea of being caught—what we were doing was for Belle’s sake, for the good of the family…but there was a zero percent chance I’d have been able to explain that to her if she’d walked in to find her body covered in her father’s fresh seed.

My cock twitched at the memory. If a genie had appeared to offer one wish, I would have wished that I wasn’t turned on by the image of my _daughter_ , kneeling in front of me, her tits coated with my cum.

“Let’s go out,” I said abruptly.

“For real?”

I think I managed to mask my smile. My daughter’s distinctive tone and language, emerging from my wife’s mouth. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it.

Fortunately, I wouldn’t have to. Six more days.

Six more days.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s been a big week; I think we deserve it.”

“Da…uh, Andrew. It’s Monday.”

God, was it only Monday?

“Well, when was the last time we went out?”

A look of confusion entered my wife’s eyes

“It’s been too long,” I pressed on, before Belle felt obliged to actually answer my question. “Pick a spot, I’ll take you there.”

“The 556!”

“Sure thing, honeybee.”

My daughter, unsurprisingly, was much worse at hiding her reactions than I. Pretending not to notice her grimace, I told her to go upstairs and get changed.

Once I was sure she was out of earshot, I made my way back to the office.

I genuinely don’t know how she does it. If it wasn’t for the smell, I would have sworn that our daughter’s body had just gotten home from school and sat down on the couch in my office to relax. I mean, I _knew_ she wasn’t wearing a bra or panties, but the innocent way she was sitting, I would never have considered that as an option.

Then, once she saw it was just me, Mary licked our daughter’s lips and winked at me.

I was immediately as hard as a rock.

“I’m taking her out to dinner,” I said, and Belle’s eyes lit up.

“Great idea!” she said, the sultry look gone in an instant. “Talk to her about her peers.”

I tilted my head to the side.

“Her peers? You mean…the people at your work?”

“No, _her_ peers. The kids in her class.”

“Are you worried our daughter is being…peer pressured?”

Mary tossed her head to the side and gave me a perfect (though I suspect inadvertent) duplication of Belle’s most withering teenage glance.

“Yes, Andrew. Tell her hugs, not drugs. Perhaps in a rap, to make sure it really gets through to the youth of today.”

“I just don’t…—”

My wife interrupted me with a sigh, heaving my daughter’s shoulders.

“We don’t have time for this, honey. Our daughter doesn’t have any friends, and I’m trying to work out why.”

“Of course,” I said.

There were many reasons I was uncomfortable doing sexual things with my daughter. I mean, they should be obvious, right? Even though I knew it was my wife in there…in the end, it was still my _daughter’s body_.

The memories would never leave me. The knowledge that I’d been inside her, that she’d sucked my cock, that I’d cum on her tits…they’d torture me until my dying day.

But just as bad: now that I’d seen her naked, now that I’d looked at her in a sexual light…it was hard to turn off. 

Without even meaning to, before I left the room, my eyes flicked down, and I glanced at Belle’s tits.

I checked out my daughter. 

There are many words that you can use to describe me, but I don’t think that ‘subtle’ is one of them.

Mary noticed. She noticed me objectifying our daughter’s body. She noticed me unconsciously looking at Belle’s chest. What was going to happen when they switched back? If Belle noticed me checking her out, even once…god, I didn’t even want to think of the damage that would do.

My wife should have been furious. She should have scolded me, helped me train my instincts _away_ from viewing my daughter as a piece of meat.

Instead, a look appeared on her face, and she brazenly pushed her chest forward for me to have a better look.

“Where are you going for dinner?” she asked, her voice practically dripping with faux-innocence.

“The 556.”

Belle’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh!”

“Oh?”

She grinned at the worried tone in my voice.

“Have fun with that,” she said, and before I could inquire any further, ushered me out of the office. My head snapped around, but Belle was still upstairs, thank god. If she saw that her body was at home, she’d…well, I didn’t know what she’d do. I didn’t want to know.

“While you’re out, I’m going to do some homework,” she whispered.

“Good,” I began, but my wife continued over me.

“…while your cum dries on my tits. Have a good time!”

I wasn’t able to even get a ‘goodbye’ out before she slipped back through the door, closing it on my face.

What was at the 556?


	Chapter 24

I managed to mask my erection as I left the office (a skill I’d developed as a teen, and hadn’t thought about it for many years). I tried to calm down as I waited at the bottom of the stairs for my daughter (in my wife’s body) to finish preparing for our ‘date’.

My mouth dropped open as Mary’s body appeared.

Over the last week, Belle had been dressing her mother as she saw her choices in fashion. At the age of forty, Mary had long settled into what I considered quite a pleasant array of outfits, but—in her daughter’s eyes—were apparently dull as ditchwater.

Yesterday, for example, Belle had worn a black dress that I hadn’t seen Mary in since her uncle’s funeral. It was stiff, staid, formal, and did absolutely nothing for her figure—something I’d been _extremely_ grateful for.

I was already having enough trouble hiding my attraction to Mary in my daughter’s body. The last thing I’d needed was to hide my attraction for my wife from Belle in Mary’s body. 

Even after eighteen years of marriage, I still consider Mary one of the most gorgeous creatures on the planet, but I knew that Belle must be finding the scenario stressful enough as it was. She didn’t need her father’s lustful eyes passing over her borrowed form.

And so I hadn’t been prepared in the slightest for Belle to choose one of her mother’s least conservative outfits. It was a red dress that she’d bought to wear to the beach, but shelved after realizing it was far too revealing.

Women’s fashion is a strange thing. My wife has worn a bathing suit to the beach—she even has a bikini that sees regular rotation. 

A bikini is fine, but a revealing dress is verboten.

And no, in case you were wondering, the dress is _not_ more revealing than a bikini. It’s just a sundress—spaghetti straps over each shoulder, a lace-up back, and a hem that ends about five inches above her knee.

It’s certainly not offensive, or slutty—my wife just knows what’s appropriate for her to wear as a pillar of the community and a mother, and decided this falls on the wrong side of that line.

Belle, it seemed, didn’t agree.

“Wow,” I said, furiously telling my cock to stay down. “That’s…”

“Do you like it?” Belle asked, my wife’s face lighting up. It made my heart melt a little—all my little girl wanted to do was make her mother’s body look pretty. She was so innocent in so many ways.

And no longer innocent in so many others, thanks to me.

I shooed the thought away and returned the smile.

“I love it,” I said, leaning in and kissing her chastely on the cheek. “You look phenomenal.”

To my surprise, she didn’t recoil from the kiss. Or perhaps she was just getting better at hiding it.

“Thanks,” she said, doing a slight twirl. “You ready to go?”

“When you are, my queen.”

For the first time since the swap, Belle didn’t grimace at the pet name. Instead, she grinned, took my arm, and led me to the car.

* * *

As I drove to the 556, my mind was racing. What was Belle up to? Where had this sudden desire to change her mother’s wardrobe come from? 

After a week in Belle’s teenage body, it almost felt like my wife had gone crazy. She had insisted that I take our daughter’s virginity, that I cum on her face, on her tits…the sudden dose of hormones had hit her hard, sent her spiraling out of control, and made her do things that she never would have tolerated before.

Could a similar thing have happened to Belle?

My wife’s hormones obviously weren’t as powerful as our daughter’s, but we had a very healthy sex-life. We weren’t one of those TV couples, where the man desires and the woman denies—Mary’s libido was just as active as mine. I had never particularly kept track of frequency, but Mary would drag me to bed as often as I would her.

If Mary had been overwhelmed by Belle’s sexual urges, perhaps the same thing was happening in reverse. My stomach churned at the thought—my daughter, trapped in her mother’s body. What if she decided to act on those urges?

No. No matter what, I knew that I couldn’t do anything—not with my daughter. It may have been my wife’s body, but inside was _Belle_. The real Belle.

Doing anything with her would mean that she’d remember it. She’d remember me.

The idea made me sick.

For the first time, I was sympathetic to my wife’s point. Yes, Mary was in Belle’s body, but it was still _her_. It was still my wife. 

Conversely, while I’d made love to my wife’s body too many times to count, the idea of doing anything while Belle was inside…it was completely out of the question.

No wonder Mary had struggled to understand my reticence. Her stance was suddenly making a lot more sense.

My wife had used her considerable debating talents to wear me down; I knew that my daughter wouldn’t be able to do the same thing. It might be awkward to explain to her why I, her ‘loving husband’, didn’t want to make love to her, but I knew I’d be able to do it.

And at worst, I’d flee. I’d flee the situation, and get to safer grounds.

Not that it would come to that.

“You excited for our date?” I asked, breaking the silence. Belle had been using her mother’s eyes to stare out the window for the whole trip, distracted.

I dreaded to think of what thoughts were distracting her.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said distantly.

“I really, uh, love you,” I said, trying to gauge where she was at.

“Love you too,” she replied dimissively.

“I think I’ll get the crocodile for dinner,” I replied.

“That sounds lovely,” Belle responded.

Okay, definitely not listening. I wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good sign.

“We’re here,” I said, and Belle turned to shoot me a smile. My daughter’s smile on my wife’s face looked completely natural, and I found myself smiling back.

_Not my wife,_ I had to remind myself. _It’s Belle in there. My daughter._

Mary’s actions over the last few days had left me so confused and worked up—even though I’d cum onto my daughter’s face and tits just a few hours ago, it felt like my body was still humming with sexual energy. I had to make sure not to release any of that energy in the direction of Mary’s body.

I could do this. I knew I could.

Opening the door to the diner, I was simultaneously overwhelmed with terror and relief. In an instant, it became clear to me- my daughter hadn’t dressed this way for _me_. All my head-spinning had been for nothing.

Sitting inside the 556, his arm around a girl I presumed was Lacey, sat Spike.

And my wife’s eyes were boring into him like a laser-focused drill.

Mary had been right. This _was_ going to be interesting.


	Chapter 25

As I steered my wife to a table by the window, I tried to simultaneously keep an eye on Spike, watch Mary’s face, and act as though everything was normal.

Which, in a sense, it was. I was just out for dinner with my wife. The fact that our daughter’s ex-boyfriend was here was of no consequence.

At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

Belle, for her part, did a terrible job of acting nonchalant. I guided her by the arm (preventing her from spilling an entire family’s meals onto the floor) and pretended everything was normal. When we sat, she made sure to position herself so she could see Spike and his new tart.

I did my best to make conversation throughout dinner, but it was obvious that her attention was barely on me. More than once, I caught her absentmindedly shaking salt into her coca cola. And once we’d finished one of the most delicious meals I’d ever had at the 556, she did her best to avoid leaving.

“I want dessert,” she demanded. I tried to hide my smile at the teenage whine that had crept into her voice.

“A…second dessert?” I said, pointing at the remains of the crème brûlée sitting in front of her. She blinked twice, as if seeing it for the first time.

“How about coffee?” she smiled, trying to turn on the charm. But charm is a learned skill—one that my wife had mastered, and my daughter had not.

“You know you can’t drink coffee at this hour,” I said. “You’ll never sleep again.”

“Well…”

I could practically hear her mind ticking.

“Why don’t we just sit and chat for a while? You said it yourself; we never go out like this.”

I sighed, feigning frustration. “Mary, you’ve barely said two words to me all night.”

A thoughtful look crossed my wife’s face, as my daughter processed what I was saying. After a moment, she nodded.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Reaching out and grabbing my hand, she looked directly into my eyes.

“What do you want to talk about?”

The sudden attention took me by surprise, and I said the first thing that came to my head.

“P…peers.”

“Peers?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to recover. “Belle’s peers. I’m worried that she doesn’t have any friends.”

A hint of sadness flickered across Mary’s face, but my daughter quickly did what she could to quash it.

“I’m sure she has plenty of friends.”

“Mmm,” I replied nonchalantly. “…does she?”

To my surprise, I spent the next twenty minutes having a real, honest conversation with my daughter about her social situation. It was all in the third person, of course—always ‘our daughter’, never ‘you’, but I learned a lot. She reiterated a few things we’d already discussed—her loneliness, the isolation she’d been feeling. She’d only really connected with two people at her school:

Spike, and his new girlfriend Lacey.

“Of course,” I said, crossing my fingers under the table. “That Spank kid was only interested in her for sex.”

“Spike,” my daughter corrected, before wrinkling Mary’s nose. “And…do you think so?”

“Of course. I bet that when she wouldn’t put out, he immediately left her for someone who would.”

My wife’s head nodded as my daughter chewed on what I’d just said. For the first time in almost half an hour, I caught her looking over to the snide-looking teenager.

This time, her expression was different. Thoughtful. Determined.

“Let’s go,” she said abruptly.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. I left cash on the table and followed my wife as she marched out of the restaurant, not giving Spike or Lacey another glance.

* * *

“I think it helped,” I finished with a shrug.

We were sitting on my bed. As soon as we’d gotten home, Belle had claimed exhaustion, and taken my wife’s body straight to the couch. Almost as soon as the spare room’s door had closed, Mary—in my daughter’s body—had slipped into my room.

Before she could say anything—or _do_ anything—I’d given her a summary of the evening’s events.

I’d never before had to distract my wife from sex, but it worked.

“That’s fantastic,” my wife said, a huge smile on Belle’s face. “Great work, honey.”

“Thanks, snickerdoodle.”

We both laughed, and I threw my head back on the bed in exhaustion.

“I think it helped,” I repeated.

My wife lay Belle’s body down beside me, and reached out to hold my hand. For the next few minutes, we lay in silence, and I reflected on the conversation I’d had with my daughter.

It becomes so normal, being a parent. I mean—not recently, of course. But over the years of raising a child, it’s easy to forget—you _made a human_. There’s a whole new person in the world, and you’re responsible for them. For their health, for their happiness.

For their life.

“Did you like seeing me all dressed up like that?”

I turned to face my daughter, my eyebrows furrowed.

“You mean…in my office?”

“No,” Mary said, a slight purr entering our daughter’s voice. “When you went out for dinner.”

“Oh! You mean… _you_.”

“Yeah. Did you like seeing me all dressed up like that?”

Belle’s hand moved down my neck, down my chest, and rested on my crotch.

God help me, I was hard.

“Yeah,” I said.

I’d gotten better at navigating weird situations, but my wife seemed determined to keep on raising the bar. If there’s a correct response to your wife in your daughter’s body, asking if you enjoyed the sight of her body dressed up by your daughter, I wasn’t able to work it out.

“I guess.”

“It’s okay,” Mary said, our daughter’s hand gently massaging my crotch. “I like knowing that you still find me attractive.”

“Of course I do,” I said. “I just…”

“I like knowing that after this is all over, after we switch back…you’ll still want me.”

“Of course I will,” I replied firmly. “Mary, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Mmm,” she replied, undoing my fly and pulling my cock out. I was too distracted to even think about stopping her.

“…even more attractive than our daughter?”


	Chapter 26

I rolled my eyes.

“Mary,” I said, trying to sound stern. “What are you playing it?”

I glanced down. My cock was out; my wife was holding it beside my daughter’s face.

“I was just wondering,” she said, her attempt at an innocent look completely undercut by the throbbing erection she was holding. “Who do you think is more attractive?”

“I’m not playing this game,” I said, starting to sit up. Before I could, Belle’s mouth enveloped the head of my cock.

“No…” I protested feebly. “Mary…we can’t.”

“We already have,” she said, pulling my cock from our daughter’s mouth. Belle’s blue eyes were looking up at me. I loved her so much. My wife, too.

I loved them both so much.

“No,” I said firmly, reaching down and taking my erection in hand. “Honey, you know we can’t.”

A mischievous look came across her face. Every time she gave me that look lately, a pit began to form in my stomach.

“Answer the question,” she said. “Answer the question, and we can stop. For the night.”

I closed my eyes.

“You,” I said. Even without seeing her, I could tell that Mary was rolling our daughter’s eyes.

“Who’s hotter?” she pressed.

“You are,” I answered, opening my eyes. She hadn’t moved—her face was still an inch from my cock. Even with my hand wrapped around it, the engorged head was still visible, and that’s where my wife’s attention was focused. “You—Mary.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine for a moment, and her grin grew wider.

“Wrong answer,” she said tauntingly, and slowly used our daughter’s tongue to coat the head of my cock in saliva.

It took a few moments before I was again capable of the power of speech. My wife and I had always had a healthy, varied sex life, and going down on each other had been a regular part of it.

I missed many things about having my wife in her old body; getting head was close to the top of the list.

“But that’s the truth. How can an opinion be wrong?” I asked, willing my erection to go down.

“Because,” Mary said, a huge grin on Belle’s face. “You’re lyyyyyiing.”

She was right, of course. She was always right.

Don’t get me wrong—my wife is gorgeous. And if you’d asked me even a few weeks ago, I would have told you that she was far more attractive than our teenage daughter.

But until the swap, I had only barely been aware of Belle’s looks. And with my wife inhabiting it, steering her young body to reach its full sexual potential…

My daughter may have been the most attractive creature on the planet.

Not that I could admit to that, of course. Especially not to my wife.

“I’m not,” I protested, trying to move my cock out of reach. I was flustered—I’m really not a good liar—and, of course, a part of me very much wanted Belle’s soft pink lips wrapped around my hardness…

No.

No, I was a good father. I would do what my wife needed, but she didn’t need to suck my cock.

She obviously wanted to, but it wasn’t something she needed.

“We had a deal,” she said, looking up at me balefully. “You tell the truth, we stop. You lie, you suffer the consequences.”

From the outside, it would have been hard to describe what happened next as ‘suffering’. I know my wife, and I know myself, and I knew that there was no way I was getting out of a blowjob.

If you were watching, you would have seen a regular middle-aged man getting head from a horny teenage vixen. You would have had no way of knowing that behind the blowjob was decades of experience, but I’m sure you’d have recognized the skill involved, even from the outside.

But even as I received the best blowjob of my life, I couldn’t truly enjoy it.

Intellectually, I knew it was my wife giving me head. I knew I wasn’t cheating, that everything I was doing was completely above-board.

I knew that Mary was the one skillfully stimulating the underside of my cock with Belle’s tongue, taking the base of my cock in her hand, forcing my erection as far down her throat as it could go.

But I couldn’t stop thinking it, over and over:

_That’s my daughter._

_That’s my _daughter_._

_That’s my DAUGHTER._

My wife had dressed Belle in the old cotton pajamas she’d worn as a younger teen. They barely fit her any more; her huge tits were threatening to burst out of the top, and her ass perfectly filled out the bottoms. As Mary continued to use our daughter’s body to give me head, one of Belle’s hands slipped between her legs.

She was staring at me, a half-crazed look in her eyes as she bobbed up and down my cock, again and again. Each time she thrust her head forward, I could feel the top of my penis bump against the back of my daughter’s throat. It actually hurt, the first few times, but I was beyond talking, and I doubted my words would have had any effect.

Gagging noises were coming out of Belle’s mouth, and a sizable amount of drool was dripping out of the corners of her mouth. She looked like such a wanton slut—giving head as though she was in a frenzy, desperate to be used by an older man.

_My daughter’s a slut._

Without realizing, my mantra had shifted. It was still one of horror, but I was so turned on, I couldn’t even think straight.

God help me, I was more turned on than I could ever remember.

_My daughter’s a _slut_._

_My daughter’s a SLUT._

Belle’s eyes widened as she felt my cock thicken. She redoubled her efforts, slamming her head forcefully against my dick. I think we both knew that we were beyond pleasure at this point, beyond pain. Our motivation was lust, pure and simple.

My wife wanted me to use our teenage daughter’s mouth, and I wanted to use it.

I reached down and took ahold of Belle’s long, blonde hair. I knew that in just a few minutes I’d hate myself for it, but I face-fucked my daughter, staring directly into her big, innocent eyes as I did.

The only sound in the room was my daughter’s moans of pleasure—each time I forced my cock deep into her throat, she would make a sound—a combined grunt, gasp, and moan.

“I’m going to cum,” I grunted, my voice strained and deep. She nodded, and I noticed her other hand had reached up the thin cotton top, and was roughly pulling and tugging at her engorged nipples.

With a groan, I came directly into my daughter’s throat.

As soon as the first rope of cum left my engorged cock, it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me.

What was I _doing_??

I let go of Belle’s hair in shock, and she fell backwards. I watched with horror as another two, three, four strings of semen burst forth from my erection, flying onto my daughter’s face, her cotton pajamas, coating her with my seed.

“Yes Daddy,” she moaned, and I was unable to look away. “Daddy yes daddy please yes daddy, mark me as your property. You own me. Daddy, you own meeeee…”

Her voice grew high-pitched, and her hips began bucking. I forced myself to look away as my wife had a powerful orgasm in our daughter’s body, soaked in my cum, frenetically muttering about my ownership of her.

“I have to go,” I muttered. In that moment, I forgot that it was my room, that Belle—in my wife’s body—was in the house. All I knew was that I was starting to lose control of the situation—and I had to get out of there.


	Chapter 27

I didn’t run to the cabin again.

God knows I was tempted, but what good would it do? Mary would know how to find me, and out in the woods, so far from prying eyes…

I didn’t trust myself.

At least in the house there was the ever-present threat of Belle. The real Belle, in my wife’s body. At any point, I knew that she could walk in on us—the thought was terrifying enough to stop me from going too far.

Well, to stop me from going any further than we’d already gone.

Instead, I returned to the 556.

Because it was open twenty-four hours a day. That’s genuinely what I thought the motivation was, as I drove across town. I told myself it was a logical place to go because it was always open.

But as I parked beside my wife’s car—‘the big car’—I wondered if my subconscious had been two steps ahead of me.

I entered the diner cautiously, but I needn’t have worried. Belle—in Mary’s body—wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Spike.

And Spike wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Mary.

* * *

I watched for half an hour before slipping out again. I didn’t want to chance the pair of them deciding to call it a night, and my daughter spotting me watching them.

The situation was already precarious enough. A confrontation would be enough to send the entire body-swapping house of cards tumbling down.

To her credit, Belle didn’t look like she was doing anything inappropriate with her mother’s body. She was just talking to Spike, just making conversation. At 1am. With a teenage boy.

It wasn’t until the drive home that I realized:

I was jealous.

The thought made me laugh out loud.

I was jealous of someone less than half my age.

It wasn’t as if that was really my wife, either. It was my teenage daughter, navigating my wife’s body who’d spent the evening chatting to him. Staring into his eyes. Flirting with him.

Despite my recent actions—my recent realizations—I have to emphasize, I have _zero_ interest in my daughter. The only way I’ve been able to get through our recent interactions is because it’s been my beloved wife inhabiting her body.

But just as I’ve struggled with the fact that Belle’s eyes were the ones looking up at me when my wife gave me head, I had a similarly primal response that evening to watching my wife’s body show obvious signs of interest.

I _know_ it wasn’t Mary, sneaking out to spend time with a teenage boy. Of course I know that.

But my lizard brain doesn’t—all it saw was my wife ( _my_ wife) flirting with a teenage boy.

And it didn’t like it.

I lay awake in bed for over an hour, until I finally heard the ‘big car’ pull into the driveway.

I know my daughter. There was no way that she’d use her mother’s body to do anything inappropriate. Even with whatever draw Spike held for her, she wouldn’t make Mary— _my_ Mary—cheat on her husband. She would respect the sanctity of her mother’s marriage.

She’d respect her mother’s bodily autonomy. She wouldn’t do anything with the boy. I knew they’d just spend that time talking, nothing more.

Right?

After the car pulled in, it was ten more minutes before I heard the door actually open. She was just thinking, I assured myself. Belle had just had a very confusing evening, spent with her crush, inhabiting her mother’s body.

She wouldn’t do anything inappropriate.

I listened as my wife’s body made its way into the house, into the spare room. I finally closed my eyes, ready to sleep, when a thought struck me.

Now, in case it hasn’t been made clear yet, I love my wife. I truly think she’s the most amazing woman on the planet—there’s nothing she can’t do, if she sets her mind to it, and she always acts with our family’s best interests in mind.

But it occurred to me that Mary, just a few days in, had found herself unable to resist acting on her desires. She _had_ done everything I’d been assuring myself Belle wouldn’t—she’d violated our daughter’s bodily autonomy. From a certain point of view, she’d made me cheat on her.

We’d partaken in incest, because she’d been unable to resist succumbing to temptation.

She’d claimed it was the hormones, and if my memories of being a teenager were reliable, I could definitely understand that argument. But ultimately, she’d given into lust, and done everything I’d told myself Belle wouldn’t.

Mary and I typically made love three or four times a week. Mary’s body was accustomed to having sex at least several times a week.

It had been nine days since the switch.

Just as Mary had been unable to resist the pull of Belle’s hormones, perhaps Belle would find her mother’s needs overwhelming. And I knew with one-hundred percent certainty that she wouldn’t be able to make love to me, her father—just the thought of it made me shudder.

What had she done in the hour since I left the 556?

Had she come home alone?

An image passed through my mind—my wife’s body bent double, fellating Spike while parked in the driveway. It made my blood boil, and I gave myself a moment to calm down.

I was being irrational. Jealousy has always been one of my weaknesses—it had overtaken me just from watching my wife’s body, watching her be so entranced by another man.

I knew that Belle wouldn’t do that to me. To her parents.

But ten days ago, I would have said the same about Mary.

We’d been telling ourselves that it wasn’t cheating, not really—it was my wife, after all. She was just in a different body.

But by that logic, Mary’s body partaking in sexual congress with Spike…that wasn’t cheating either.

At the thought of Mary’s body riding Spike…our logic suddenly didn’t seem so iron-clad.

These thoughts ran through my head again and again, alternating between assuring myself that I was crazy…and reminding myself that the whole situation was crazy, and that the women in my life were more driven by lust than I ever could have imagined.

It was several hours later before I finally fell asleep, flashes of Spike’s face and my wife’s body haunting my nightmares.


	Chapter 28

The next morning, I was barely awake for more than a minute before I stumbled into the office.

There she was. To my relief, my wife’s body was there, her eyes closed, her mouth wide open. It’s funny—my wife never snored, but Belle did. Apparently that was something that came with the brain, not the body.

I don’t honestly know what I’d expected. I mean, obviously she was going to be there. Even if Belle had used her mother’s body to fuck Spike—which she _never would_ , I reminded myself—she wouldn’t be stupid enough to stay out for the night, or bring him home with her.

Not that she would ever do anything like that.

Of course she wouldn’t.

I managed to sneak back out of the room without waking her up, glancing at the clock in the hallway.

Six o’clock. I’d barely gotten three hours of sleep. The rest of the house wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour.

Or so I’d thought.

When I returned to my marital bed, hoping to get some more shuteye before I had to be up, I was met by the naked form of my teenage daughter.

“Mary,” I groaned. “Please. It’s 6am. Go back to bed.”

“Oh, hello Daddy,” she said, a coy look in her eye.

“Mary, you’re not my daughter, you’re my wife. It’s too early for this shit.”

“I heard you wake up, Daddy, and thought you might want to play.”

I rolled my eyes. Mary clearly thought she was being cute, but even the sight of my daughter’s perfect, naked body wasn’t enough to stir a reaction.

“Nope. Daddy doesn’t want to play. Daddy wants to sleep.”

It was almost funny, the way my wife made my daughter’s face go from flirtatious to serious in a single second.

“Andrew,” she said. “Please. I barely slept last night. Can’t we fool around a little before I have to go to school? Please…”

“No,” I said firmly. “I promised you once a day, and once a day I shall deliver. But right now, all I want to do is lay down and try to get some sleep. _Please._ ”

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, petulantly throwing her head back on the pillow. I tried to ignore now beautifully the motion made my daughter’s breasts bounce. “Can I nap with you?”

“No! For two reasons. Firstly, I don’t trust you…”

“You don’t _trust_ me?” Mary pouted.

“Yes. Obviously. And secondly, if our daughter comes in here—with your body—she’s going to wonder what the fuck _her_ body is doing in bed naked with her father. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Mary said reluctantly. “No. You’re right.”

“Thank you,” I said, laying my head down on the pillow. I was asleep before I could even be sure that wife had made my daughter’s body leave the room.

* * *

That afternoon, Mary met me with thick eyeliner on Belle’s face and a whole lot of questions.

“Why are you wearing so much makeup?” I asked, but my daughter’s hand waved me away.

“Me first, Andrew.”

I shut up, glad that she at least wasn’t calling me ‘Daddy’.

“First question: Why were you up so early?”

“Uh…”

“Okay, second question. Why the hell did Spike tell me I ‘have a cool Mom’ today?”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed, my love. It sounds like you have some explaining to do.”

With a sigh, I told my wife about our daughter’s late-night expedition, and how I’d barely slept the previous night because of my imagination’s wild runnings.

“Ah ha,” she said, holding a finger to our daughter’s lip.

I actually think it was just a natural gesture, but the sight immediately made my cock stir. I would have jerked off during the day, to help maintain some control, but my girls had let me sleep in, and I’d had to work non-stop since I awoke at noon.

“Ah ha?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Spike…apologized.”

“Spike _apologized_?”

“Well, as close as I think he’s ever going to get to an apology.”

I narrowed my eyes. “ _Spike_ apologized?”

“I know, right?” It never got any less weird, hearing my wife’s laugh come out of our daughter’s mouth. “I had basically written him off, but whatever our daughter said to him last night…it worked.”

“It _worked_?”

“I mean, I’m setting a pretty low bar here. He didn’t turn up in a suit and tie and explain that he had suddenly decided to be an insurance broker.”

“What specifically did he say?”

“He said that he was sorry. Well, again, as close as I think he’s ever going to get. He explained that he and Lacey started their relationship the wrong way, but that it really was the right relationship for them, and that they should have done more to make sure I didn’t get hurt along the way.”

I sat back in my chair.

“Wow.”

“That’s a good word for it.”

Belle’s lips curved, and I saw it. That ‘proud mama’ look that Mary had given when Belle had first walked, first spoken.

It was working. This insane body-swap journey we’d found ourselves on…it was working.

“And that was it?” I asked, using my watch-band to scratch the back of my neck.

“Well…”

A blush slowly spread across my daughter’s face.

“Well?”

“He _did_ say that if I ever wanted to, uh…”

Mary trailed off. I raised one eyebrow.

“What?”

“He offered for me to, um, ‘join in’.”

“Join in with what?”

“…with him and Lacey.”

My eyes widened.

“Oh!”

“Yeah. I politely declined, of course.”

“Of course!”

“…but you have to admit, the idea is pretty sexy.”

I held up one hand.

“Wait wait wait. First of all, no it is not.”

Mary pursed our daughter’s lips into a seductive pout. I tried to look away, but couldn’t.

“Honey, don’t pretend it’s not a little sexy.”

She ran one of Belle’s hands down her body.

“This body. Lacey’s body. Spike, enjoying the two of us.”

I closed my eyes, trying to force the image out of my head. It didn’t work.

When I next spoke, it was slowly, through gritted teeth.

“You are _not_ using our daughter’s body to have a threesome with Spike and…and…”

“Lacey.”

“Yes, Lacey.”

“I know,” my wife sighed. “But isn’t it fun to think about?”

“No!” I exploded, immediately feeling bad as I saw Belle’s eyes widen.

I sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Mary replied. The ‘little girl’ voice was back, and I was immediately on edge. “I know you don’t want me to do that, Daddy. I know you don’t want me to be a naughty, naughty girl…”

“You’re right,” I replied, trying to keep my voice as even as I could. Trying not to let my wife know that her approach wouldn’t work on me.

Trying to hide the fact that it was.

“I’m your good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, taking the hand that was offered to me. “Yes, Mary. You’re my good girl.”

“I’m your good little Belle-drop,” she purred, using a nickname I hadn’t used for my daughter in half a decade.

“You’re my good, faithful, loving wife.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, immediately doubling my suspicion. “I’m your good, loving wife…”

She leaned in, Belle’s lips against my ear, and finished with a whisper.

“…but I’m trapped in the body of a naughty teenage slut.”

It was more than thirty seconds before I found my tongue.

Before my wife had switched bodies with our daughter, we’d made love three or four times a week, and both been extremely satisfied with the situation.

Now, I felt like I needed to cum several times a day just to keep sane.

“Mary,” I rasped. “Please. Can we just…”

“Now,” she interrupted coquettishly. “To answer your question…”

“Hmmm?”

“The eyeliner.”

“Right. Yes.” I’d completely forgotten about the eyeliner. It reminded me of the girls I’d gone to high school with who’d thought that listening to the Sex Pistols made them a rebel.

“The eyeliner is because I want you to fuck my throat so hard it makes me cry, then take a photo of your cock in my mouth, eyeliner running down my face.”


	Chapter 29

I blinked twice at my wife’s request. I couldn’t work out what was more shocking—the request, or the matter-of-fact way she’d made it.

“What?”

My daughter’s eyes stared back at me, unblinking, as she repeated the request.

“I want you to fuck my throat…”

“Mary!”

“…so hard you make me cry…”

“I’m not doi—…”

“…then take a photo…”

“Mary, we—…”

“… of your cock in my mouth…”

“Please, can we ju…—”

“…and the eyeliner running down my face.”

There was a silence, as I stared into the eyes of my teenage daughter, her body inhabited by her mother.

“No,” I said simply.

“What?”

“Honey…”

I sighed. I felt like we’d had this conversation over and over again, every day since the switch.

“Honey, we can’t.”

I tried not to think about the fact that over the dozen arguments, I’d never won.

“But you promised.”

“I did _not_ promise to take a photo of…of…”

“Of your cock in my mouth, eyeliner running down my face.” It practically came out in a purr. I’d been so shocked by the request, I hadn’t even noticed how much the idea obviously turned her on.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Something told me this was going to be another battle I wasn’t going to win.

But I had to try.

“Mary, you know we can’t take any photos. If anyone finds a photo of my cock in my _daughter’s throat_ , I’m finished. Our entire family is finished.”

“Who’s going to know it’s your cock?”

“What if _Belle_ finds it, honey. How the fuck do you explain _that_ photo to our daughter?”

My daughter’s face winced slightly at the language, but whether from shock or arousal, I couldn’t tell. And didn’t much want to find out.

“We’ll keep it in the safe,” she said. “She’s eighteen—it’s not child pornography.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, hypothetical: you die, and the police suspect me.”

My wife returned my eye-roll; a familiar expression on our daughter’s face over the last few years.

“Go on,” she grumbled.

“They open the safe and find _that_. What do you think they think is happening?”

“They won’t know it’s your cock…”

“No,” I said emphatically. “But they’ll know it’s a photo of my _daughter’s face_ , a cock in her mouth in _my safe_.”

“The safe in my desk,” my wife replied. “At work. I’ll keep it there.”

My eyes widened.

“How is that better!?”

Another sardonic glare. “Because then you have complete deniability over why it exists.”

“But _you won’t_.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Mary replied, looking up at me with Belle’s eyes. “Please, Andrew. I really want this.”

“We can’t.”

“I’ll take full responsibility of it.” Her tone hardened. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“No, but I am the boss of _photos of my own cock._ ”

There was a pause, and I felt like I was actually gaining ground.

“We’ll burn the photo,” she said. “We don’t need to keep it, I just…I just want to take it.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“…why?”

“God, Andrew,” she said, her voice deep with lust. “I don’t even know. I just can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t explain it.”

“ _Try._ ”

There was another pause. I tried to subtly adjust myself; my daughter’s eyes had gone hazy with lust.

How was I ever going to see her as my sweet innocent girl again? How was I going to look into those eyes without remembering this moment, when she was so turned on she literally couldn’t focus?

Before I was anywhere close to formulating an answer, my wife continued.

“I want to _see_ ,” she said, half-speaking, half-moaning. “I want to see what it looks like. What I look like. What our daughter looks like.”

I gestured to the mirror, but Mary shook our daughter’s head.

“I’ve tried that. I’ve given head to a cucumber in front of the mirror, just to see what it looks like, but it’s not the same. I want to see it like you do. I want to see what _you_ see—I’ve been inside this body for ten days now, and I can’t stop thinking about how you see our daughter. She’s so full of hormones, honey…she’s such a _slut_.”

Mary practically spat the last word, and my cock twitched, reminded of the mantra I’d found myself mindlessly repeating yesterday as I came.

_My daughter’s a slut. My daughter’s a slut. My daughter’s a SLUT._

“I have to see, honey. I can’t stop thinking about it. I _have_ to.”

“Mary…”

“Please, Daddy,” she begged, her moan becoming a high-pitched whine. “Please…”

I held up one hand before she threw herself onto her knees in front of me.

“We can take a photo,” I quietly conceded. “But not of that. I…I don’t think I can hurt our daughter, Mary.”

She smiled—it combined with her smouldering eyes to give her a half-crazed look.

“Andrew, honey, you took her virginity.”

I winced.

“That was a mistake.”

“But you did it. And now you’ll do this. I promise, by the time we switch back, she won’t know anything has happened.”

“What if she comes home halfway through?” I asked, aware of how thin my excuses were getting. Mary laughed.

“I’ll get us out of it,” she said, waving away my fears. And I knew she was right; she’d get us out of the most compromising of situations. It’s what my wife is good at.

It’s one of the things my wife is good at.

“But…”

I fell silent. This was a bad idea, obviously…but so was so much of what we’d done, what we were doing.

“Fine,” I sighed. “But: we burn the photo?”

Belle’s eyes filled with glee, and she nodded.

“We burn the photo,” she said, her voice so throaty she could have been competing in the sex-line Olympics.

“So let’s do it,” I said with a half-shrug, and my daughter’s hands clapped with sheer delight.

“Oh Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy…”

I shuddered. For reasons I didn’t understand, I knew my wife was getting off on using our daughter’s body to call me ‘Daddy’. I still found it pretty disturbing.

Worst of all, it was starting to have an effect on me. Just another of the many ways these two weeks were destined to fuck me up for life, I figured.

“Go get the Polaroid,” I sighed. We’d bought an instant camera to use at our 15-year wedding anniversary; everyone had loved being able to get the photos back straight away. We hadn’t really used it much since then, but my wife returned in less than a minute, the Polaroid camera in our daughter’s hands.

She’d been waiting for this.

“We burn the photo,” I reminded her, and she nodded, practically vibrating with excitement as she stripped naked in front of me.

My wife had used our daughter’s body to blow me several times now, but it had never been this…calculated before. I’d always felt tricked into it, or done it simply because I’d been overtaken by lust.

By suggesting something so much more extreme than a simple blowjob, my wife had stopped me from arguing the blowjob itself.

My eyes narrowed. Had that been her intent all along?

I unzipped my trousers—I was hard as a rock, of course. For all my protestations, I couldn’t deny that there was something perversely hot about Mary’s idea. Our daughter’s innocent face, made up like a whore, my cock in her mouth, using her like a slut, eyeline dripping down her face…

Belle’s eyes lit up at the sight of my erection; in no time at all, she’d enveloped me with her mouth, taking the entire length of my cock down her throat like she’d been doing this for years.

I suppose she had, in a sense. Not my daughter, of course—Mary. She’d been sucking my cock for more than fifteen years, and she’d never struggled to swallow down the entire thing. Almost two decades of sexual experience, inside a body less than two decades old.

If I wasn’t careful, I was going to cum before taking the photo.

“Are you ready?” I asked, and when my wife responded with a muffled ‘mmf-hmmf!’, and took our daughter’s hair into my hand.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 30

My wife had been right not to take me seriously when I’d claimed I was going to find this difficult. I was so charged up, I almost immediately began fucking her throat.

Hard.

It wasn’t easy to ignore my parental instincts—when Belle started coughing and choking, I wanted to stop, to make sure she was okay. But I knew my wife would do something if she wasn’t, and so I overrode my parental instincts (as I’d been doing so much lately) and focused on the task at hand.

I was starting to get genuinely concerned being caught—we hadn’t set the alarm like the previous day—and wanted it finished—and my daughter’s face cleaned up—as quickly as possible. So despite her spluttering, I continued fucking my daughter’s throat as intensely as I could.

Even as Belle’s eyes began to water, my wife didn’t slow down for a second. I was pounding into her mouth as hard and fast as I could while she played with my balls with one hand, pulling and tweaking at her hard nipples with the other.

Before long, the dam broke—Belle’s overly-thick makeup began to run down her face as my cock pistoned in and out of her face.

After several minutes of this, I could feel myself on the verge of cumming. I was tempted to pull out, to cum on my daughter’s face and take _that_ photo…but that wasn’t what my wife had requested, and I didn’t want to give her _any_ excuse to force a repeat of today’s experience.

And I knew my wife. _She would_.

So instead, I picked up the camera, forced my daughter’s face down until her lips were at the base of my cock, and stopped.

“Smile,” I said, and Belle’s big, blue, lust-filled eyes looked up at me with picture-perfect need and desperation. “Good girl.”

_Click._

My daughter’s loud moan filled the room as the camera whirringly began to print the instant photo. I could feel my wife’s conflicting desires, so I pulled Belle’s face off my cock, and held my daughter close as we watched the photo develop.

It only took a minute or two for the photo to develop—unlike the famous lyrical suggestion, I did not ‘shake it’ (in fact, moving a developing photo adversely affects the chemical process)—just watched, and waited, as the image slowly faded into view

“Fuuuuck,” my wife said, breathing heavily at the sight of our daughter’s lips around my cock. I don’t consider myself much of a photographer, but it was hard to deny—the image was an erotic masterpiece. The mascara running down Belle’s face, the look of pure animal lust in her eyes, her red lips stretched obscenely around my cock.

We probably could have sold it to a nudey magazine for a decent chunk of change. Y’know, if we wanted to ruin’s Belle’s life.

More than we already had.

I noticed my wife had moved our daughter’s hand between her legs. She was stroking herself as she looked at the perverse image in front of us; physical proof of what we’d done.

Of what, I knew, we’d do again.

“Touch me,” she begged, turning those big, blue, wanton eyes in my direction. It hadn’t been part of our deal, but I couldn’t resist—I reached between my daughter’s legs, and replaced her hand with mine.

“Look at yourself,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble. “Look at what a slut you are.”

“Daddy…” she whined, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo we’d taken. “God, Daddy. Please…”

“Look at what a slut our daughter is,” I whispered.

“Daddy…”

“Look at what you’ve done to our baby girl.”

For whatever reason, that was the phrase that did it. Belle’s body began to shake, and my wife grabbed my hand, pushing it hard against our daughter’s pussy mound.

“Dadddeeeee…” she wailed, twitching with pleasure. My eyes widened as I looked down and realized that my wife was squirting. That Belle was squirting.

She’d never done that before. In either body. I’d had a girlfriend who squirted, back in college, but I hadn’t known it was something my wife could do.

Of course, maybe it wasn’t.

“Good girl,” I said, holding her close as she came down from her orgasm. “You’re Daddy’s good girl.”

I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth, but Mary seemed to appreciate them, shuddering in pleasure as I held her body against mine.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the lighter that I’d stashed there earlier, when I’d grabbed the camera. Belle’s eyes were closed, but they shot open as soon as she heard the ‘click’.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, as the small yellow flame began to blacken the edges of the photo we’d just taken.

“You promised,” I said. It took several moments for the flame to catch—as it did, I set the opposite edge alight as well.

“But…”

“No buts,” I said firmly. “I promised that we’d take the photo, and you promised we’d burn it.”

My wife fell silent as we watched the sexiest image either of us would ever see slowly turn into acrid smoke.

When it was done, she turned to me, her eyes a mixture of sadness and lust.

“I want you to cum in my mouth,” she purred, and I shook my head.

“On my face?”

“No, Mary,” I said gently. “You told me you wanted a photo, and a photo we took. We’re done for today.”

“What??” she asked, a slightly frantic look on her face. My wife has always enjoyed sex, but I swear…until she started inhabiting our daughter’s body, she never used to bear such a resemblance to an addict.

But I stood firm. I wanted to cum; of course I wanted to cum. But I’ve learned a thing or two in my time as a parent, and one is that boundaries are important.

Not that this was my daughter, of course. I tried not to think about how blurred the lines were becoming.

“Tomorrow,” I said soothingly.

My wife was not soothed.

“That’s not _fair_ ,” she whined, and I rolled my eyes.

“Mary. Honey. You’re forty years old.”

I could tell that she wanted to stamp her feet, to argue, but she took a deep breath and nodded.

“Fine,” she said with a huff. “Tomorrow.”

I smiled as she walked off. For the first time since Mary had switched bodies with Belle, it felt like I’d _won_.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 31

My wife stayed in my daughter’s room for the rest of the evening. I only checked on her once—to my relief, her frustrated moans of orgasm could only be heard when one’s ear was pressed up against the door.

I couldn’t imagine my daughter (in my wife’s body) being _that_ curious, even after she asked why Belle wasn’t at dinner that night.

A part of me was curious to know exactly what Belle thought of the current situation—waking up in her mother’s body, attending her dayjob—but there was no possible way I could ask her thoughts without revealing how much I knew, so I forced myself to surpress that curious streak, and focus on what I _could_ learn.

“She’s upstairs,” I said casually, grabbing another fistful of fries. Mary normally cooked, but Belle didn’t know her way around the kitchen beyond boiling an egg, so she’d been ‘generously’ picking up fast food on the way home from work each day since the switch.

It wasn’t great for my waistline, but it was only for a few more days. If we could survive Thursday, Friday, and—I shuddered with dread—the weekend, we’d be back at Monday and the girls would switch back.

I only had to survive four more days.

“Why?”

“Teenagers,” I replied with a roll of my eyes. “Who knows?”

We continued to eat in silence for a few moments, when a spark of inspiration struck me.

“Do you ever wish,” I asked, unwrapping my second burger of the night, “that you could go back?”

Belle—in Mary’s body—blanched at the question, and I examined the inside of the fast-food ‘treat’ with laser focus, making sure not to give the appearance of noticing her reaction. By the time I’d peeled the pickle off the cheese, she’d recovered.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“To being a teenager,” I replied, my mouth full of delicious pickleless burger. “Do you ever wish you could go back to those days?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately. “I mean, um…not that I’ve ever thought about it.”

“I think about it sometimes,” I said, putting on the vague look I’d been practicing lately. Navigating these conversations without revealing what I knew—or what my daughter _didn’t_ know—was tricky, so I’d been leaning on the absent-minded manner that was apparently expected of me. “Y’know, just…what I’d do if I were a teenager again.”

“I guess,” Belle replied, shrugging my wife’s shoulders.

I nodded, and we continued eating in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. When I felt like it was safe, I brought the topic up once more.

“What would you do?” I asked, licking my fingers clean of ketchup.

“Hmm?”

I forced myself not to smile. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who’d been practicing my reactions—Belle’s response was an exact replica of my wife’s ‘I wasn’t listening, can you repeat that?’ tone. It was uncanny.

“If you were a teenager again. What do you think you’d do differently?”

I’ll be honest—I’m not one-hundred percent sure what I was expecting. ‘Stay in school, stay away from drugs, and work hard to build a solid, dependable future’ would have been nice, but even I had to admit it was unlikely.

Then, as she has so many times over the years, my daughter’s response shocked me.

“I’d be nicer to my parents,” she said thoughtfully. Our eyes both flicked over to the empty seat where Belle normally sat. “I don’t think I realized how…”

She trailed off, and I hesitated, not sure how hard to push.

“What?” I asked softly.

“I had no idea how hard it was.”

I smiled, and put one hand over my wife’s.

“You’re doing a great job,” I said sincerely. She smiled back at me, and I recognized Belle’s shyness in the expression on my wife’s face.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m trying.”

I nodded.

“I know you are.”

“Thanks,” she said again, and we enjoyed the rest of the meal in silence.

As I was cleaning up after dinner (that’s one thing that can be said for a nightly diet of fast food—no dishes!) I broke the silence.

“Oh, hey…Belle said that you spoke to her boyfriend? Slick?”

“Spike,” she replied immediately, before widening my wife’s eyes as she realized what I was saying. “S-she told you that?”

“Yeah,” I replied with a shrug. “Before you got home.”

An image of mascara running down my daughter’s face flashed into my mind. I shook it off and continued.

“I didn’t even know you knew each other.”

“No,” she replied quickly. “I, uh, ran into him at the 556 over dinner.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. I could feel the jealous part of my brain trying to escape from the lizard zone, trying to take over. “The other night?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “You were in the bathroom.”

“Ah. What did you two talk about?”

Maybe I should have just let it go, but I’d never managed to shake the idea that something had happened.

I knew it hadn’t. Of _course_ nothing had happened.

But what if something had? I needed to know.

“Belle,” she replied immediately. “I…I told him how crushed she’d been when they broke up. How much she’d meant to him. And how cruel it had been to throw his new relationship with Lacey in her face.”

My wife’s fists were clenched, and I knew I had to tread carefully—easier said than done, considering how much I hated this Spike kid.

Dumb, isn’t it? He was nothing but a teenager who had cheated on my daughter. But…well, she was _my_ daughter, and I didn’t like the way he’d treated her.

And I especially didn’t like the way I’d seen my wife looking at him.

“Belle told you all that?” I said, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could.

“No,” she admitted. “It was in her diary.”

“Ah.”

I silently counted to ten, to try to not let myself get any more worked up, but before I had hit seven, Belle broke the silence.

“…what did he say?”

“Can’t you just find out from her diary?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

“No,” Belle said, a sad tone in her voice. “I…I shouldn’t have been reading that. Besides, now that she knows I did…”

“Right,” I said. For a moment, I tried to work out whether I should lie—how _much_ I should lie—but there were enough mistruths flying around as it was, and I decided it would be folly to add to the pile. “Well, apparently he was very respectful. A real gentleman.”

“Yeah?”

I could practically see the hearts flying out of my wife’s eyes.

“Yeah. He apologized, and thanked her for being cool that he was with Lacey now.”

“…oh.”

The look of heartbreak on Mary’s face would normally have given me pause, but knowing that it was in response to the news that a teenage boy was seeing a teenage girl…

Look, I may have let my lizard brain take control for a moment.

“Isn’t that great?” I said, pulling my wife’s body to mine for a hug. “Now our daughter is safe from that scumbag.”

“He’s not a…—”

Belle trailed off as soon as she realized the words coming out of her mother’s mouth.

“Hmm?”

“He’s not…her type,” she said.

It was the strangest thing. Even as the words spilled out of her mouth, a clumsy attempt to cover her impulsive reaction, I could tell that she suddenly believed them.

I don’t know if it was the fact that she was hearing them in Mary’s voice, or just that she’d never actually said them out loud before, or some other woman thing that I’ll never know, but in that moment, my daughter made an important (and accurate) realization about Spike: he _wasn’t_ her type.

“She deserves better,” I said gently, and couldn’t help but smile at the emphatic nod I got in return.

“Yeah,” Belle said, resting Mary’s head against my shoulder. “She really does.”

We stood there for a few minutes, smiling, holding each other. For a moment, I felt normal. I could have been hugging my daughter OR my wife, and it would have been just as nice, just as peaceful, just as calm. I didn’t feel confused, I wasn’t fighting my own instincts.

I was just an ordinary man, standing in my kitchen, hugging an important woman in my life.

But it was more than that. It was the knowledge that against all the odds…it was working. My wife’s insane, impossible plan was working.

Four more days. I could put up with anything, if at the end of it…I’d have my daughter back again.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 32

I considered sneaking into my office and masturbating before bed-time.

Not an unreasonable action, you’ll have to agree. For one, I’m a grown man (who works from home, at that). I can get off whenever I damn well like.

On top of that, it felt like I’d hadn’t gotten off in _years_. Mary’s teasing, the bizarre, fucked-up situation we were in…I was more erotically charged than I’d been since my own days as a teenager.

Back in college, one of my roommates had been super into anime. It wasn’t like today, when you can find it everywhere on the internet—he’d had to order it in from Japan.

I hadn’t been as into it, but he played it so much that it was hard not to be aware of what he was watching. He particularly liked those ‘harem’ shows, whatever they’re called—a guy meets a few dozen hot women, all of whom are inexplicably attracted to him.

The structure varies from show to show, but the ones I most remember (for obvious reasons) were the ones where the main character was just in _endless_ sexual situations. First his female roommate would lose her towel, then his neighbor would get locked out of her house naked or something. Nonstop erotic situations, accidentally or deliberately orchestrated to drive him up the wall.

I felt my life had turned into that, but instead of a string of attractive women, it was just one: my wife. My daughter.

My wife, in my daughter’s body.

She was still locked in her room, but I feared that when she heard her daughter (in her body) go to bed, she’d sneak into my room.

My daughter’s body would sneak into my room, and—unless I’d already found release—I was afraid that I’d be unable to resist.

I knew this. I knew my wife, and I knew how my daughter’s body was affecting her.

And yet, I didn’t masturbate.

Looking back, it’s hard to say why. Did I truly think that I had the willpower to resist whatever she threw at me? Or did I _want_ my defenses weakened?

Did I want my wife’s willpower to overpower mine?

You know how when you’re tired, everything is so much _harder_ than normal, and it begins to snowball? You’re more likely to have a bad day on a day when you’re having a bad day—you’re tired and cranky, so you miss your stop, which makes you even more tired, so you’re more likely to stub your toe, which makes you even more cranky…

It’s a vicious cycle.

While it’s not exactly the same, comparisons can be made to that feeling of being overly aroused. I was horny, which impaired my judgment…the sensible thing to do would have been to jerk off (perhaps more than once), strengthen my resolve, ensure that I didn’t go on to do anything I’d regret.

But instead, I managed to talk myself into staying in the living room and watching television. I convinced myself that Mary wouldn’t try anything, not tonight, not after being rejected.

After all, I’d promised to help her once a day, and I’d done exactly as she’d asked. My wife was reasonable; surely she’d see that I’d done my husbandly duties for the day, and leave me be for the night.

Right?

But exactly second after I closed my bedroom door, it opened, and my daughter’s body entered my room.

“Go to bed, honey,” I said patiently. I tried to ignore the way my cock throbbed at the sight of her. After these two weeks were done, would I ever be able to go back to viewing Belle as my beautiful, innocent daughter?

Or had we ruined that forever?

It didn’t help that my wife hadn’t cleaned up at all. My daughter’s face was still coated with mascara—we’d destroyed the photo, but the image would be burned into my face for all time. I could picture my cock in her mouth, the desperate look in her eyes as she’d gazed lustfully up at me…

_Down, boy,_ I mentally admonished.

My wife is far from a perfect person, but I can tell you that ‘predictability’ certinaly isn’t one of her flaws. To my utter surprise, she responded with a single word—“Okay.”—and slipped out of my room just as quickly as she’d entered.

I was still staring at the door in shock when it reopened a few seconds, and she poked our daughter’s nose back into the bedroom.

Of course. It could never be that simple.

“One thing before I go,” she said hesitantly. I sighed, and glanced at the clock.

Midnight. If I allowed her to suck me in (literally OR figuratively), it was unlikely that either of us would get a proper night’s sleep.

“Make it quick,” I responded, and she threw me a look of _such_ innocence, the Andrew of two weeks ago would probably have bought it.

Oh how I wished I could return to those simpler times.

“So I told you that Spike offered me…”

She trailed off. I rolled my eyes, and finished the thought before she even had a chance to drag the silence out.

“A threesome with Linda, yes. I remember.”

“Lacey,” she corrected, my daughter’s big blue eyes working overtime. I don’t think I’d ever seen eyes so wide, so deliberately naïve.

“Lacey. What’s your point?”

“And obviously I can’t do it.”

“ _Obviously,_ ” I said, pointedly glancing at the big clock on the wall. “Mary, it’s late. We really need to…—“

“We’re in complete agreement about that,” she interrupted, taking a step forward. I responded instinctively by taking a step back—not the most authoritative move, but I didn’t trust her so close.

I didn’t trust myself, either.

“Uh huh,” I said. “No using our daughter’s body for threesomes, agreed.”

No part of me wanted my cock to thicken at the thought of that. No part except my cock, apparently.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, turning her lips up into a smile. It was hard not to remember that just a few hours ago, my cock had been between those lips, forcefully fucking Belle’s throat, using her to get off…

Focus, Andrew.

“So there’s no problem,” I said.

“Right,” she said, lightly stepping backwards until she was once more in the doorframe. “No problem at all. Except…”

I sighed.

“What?”

You’ve got to understand; I didn’t _want_ to get sucked in. But my wife…she’s got a talent.

Many talents. And more than one of them had to do with sucking me in.

“Except that’s not what I told them.”

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 33

I blinked twice, not quite processing what I was hearing.

“What?”

“I, um…”

Neither Belle nor my wife are stammerers. Even in the most nerve-wracking of situations, they have full command of the English language, never faltering or losing their words.

So either Mary, for the first time in her life, had lost her grasp of the English language…or she was putting it on to annoy me.

I know where I’d put my money.

“What exactly did you say to Spot,” I said, my voice as cold as I could make it.

It was quickly becoming clear that we were _not_ going to be having an event-free, early night.

“Spike,” my wife corrected.

“Spike.” I spat. “What _exactly_ did you say to him?”

“Well…” Mary responded slowly, mischief flashing in her eyes.

“Tell. Me. _Exactly_. What. You. Said.”

As you’ve probably picked up by now, I’m not the most dominant of men. When the mood is right, I can play that role in the bedroom, but for the most part I happily let Mary run the household…and pretty much run me, if I’m being honest.

But on very rare occasions, I lose my temper. I don’t huff and storm about, throwing furniture or shouting.

When I get mad, I get quiet. By now, my wife knows the warning signs.

But for reasons that I was too angry to properly explore, she wasn’t heeding them, or using any of her tricks to calm me down.

If anything, she was doing the opposite.

“Well, he said he was sorry. I mean, not exactly that, but…”

A low growl involuntarily left my lips. My daughter’s eyes widened, her tongue briefly passing over her lips, and Mary continued.

“And then he said that if I wanted to, I—we—could fool around some time. Him and Lacey and me.”

“And what did _you_ say?”

“…I didn’t say no.”

I hadn’t even noticed myself stepping forward, but there I was, towering over my daughter.

You’ve got to understand, losing my temper like this was an extremely rare occurrence. I generally live a placid life. I’m my own boss, I make my own hours, I have a loving wife, and while our relationship with Belle had been strained for several years, it wasn’t like she was stealing money or getting arrested.

The last time I’d gotten this mad was…well, honestly, I couldn’t even tell you. But the thought of Mary offering our daughter’s body to _Spike_ , offering to share her perfect form with him and his new slut…it just made my blood boil.

“What _did_ you say?” I hissed. Again, there it was—Belle’s tongue darted out, moistening her pink lips.

“Um. Um.”

“Mary…”

“…I said that I’d think about it.”

I paused. Not ideal, of course, but it could have gone so much…

“…and then, during gym, he asked me again.”

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was red. Before I could count to ten to calm myself down, Mary continued.

“I told him I’d been thinking about it. I told him…I said that I’d been thinking about it a _lot_.”

“Mary!”

“And when he asked me after history, I…oh god, Andrew, I couldn’t say no.”

My eyes snapped open.

“What _did_ you say?”

My voice was hard as steel. As was another part of me.

“Andrew, please…”

“ _What did you say?_ ”

“I didn’t say anything.”

My eyes narrowed, and a sheepish look crossed my daughter’s face.

“…but I did, um, nod. A little.”

“Mary!”

“Andrew, please. You don’t understand. This wasn’t like the basketball player.”

As she spoke, Belle’s hands began unbuttoning her pajama top.

“He wasn’t just asking for my number—Spike was offering me _sex_. Sex, Andrew.”

“Mary, I…—”

“God, Andrew, I need to be fucked. I’ve never needed anything so much in my life.”

“I thought that once a day would be enough, I really did. But this body…”

Without missing a beat, she shrugged off her top. My daughter was standing in front of me, topless, her huge tits softly swaying as I stared at them. I felt like I was frozen, like I couldn’t move.

“…this body needs more than just fooling around.”

As Mary spoke, my daughter’s cool blue eyes were staring at me. Through me.

“It’s more than just the hormones, Andrew. Look at me.”

I stared, transfixed, as Mary stepped out of our daughter’s pajama pants. Underneath, she wore nothing. Belle’s body was standing in my room, completely naked.

“Look at what we made.”

I wanted to say something, but my mouth was completely dry.

“I need to get fucked. I _need_ it. Our daughter has a body that was built for fucking.”

I wanted to disagree, but I couldn’t find the words.

“Andrew, if I don’t get fucked, I’m going to lose it. Even with our arrangement, even with once a day…I’m climbing the walls.”

“Mary…” I croaked. Adrenaline was still coursing through my body, scrambling my thoughts. My dick was as hard as it had ever been, and there was a naked teenage girl standing in my room.

Begging me to fuck her.

“I need it,” she pleaded, placing Belle’s arms around my neck, pressing her naked body against mine. I knew she could feel my erection through my shorts.

“I need to get fucked,” she repeated. “And if you don’t do it…I’m going to go to a man who will.”

Like I said, I should’ve jerked off. Or, failing that, I should’ve locked the door the moment I got to the bedroom.

Or after she left the first time.

And I definitely shouldn’t have let her get to me. No one knows how to work me up like Mary does—she can press my buttons like no one else. In both senses. When we first got together, we’d engage in screaming matches that lasted all night.

Sometimes the sexy kind, but more often—especially when we were first dating—the angry type.

But at the thought of Spike touching my daughter— _fucking_ my daughter—the room went red once more, and the next thing I knew, Belle’s naked body was bent double across the bed and my pants were around my ankles.

“No one fucks you but me,” I hissed, one hand on Belle’s neck. “You’re _mine_.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, arching her back.

It wasn’t until my cock was halfway inside my daughter that I realized I’d been had. My wife isn’t a liar, but she also isn’t a fool. There was no way that she’d told a teenage drug-dealer that he and his new girlfriend could fuck our daughter.

She’d made the whole thing up. It was all so obvious now. She’d made it all up to trick me into taking her— _properly_ taking her, not like last time, where I’d just lain there. My wife wanted me to fuck her—to really FUCK her…and I’d fallen for it.

Here’s the thing though—when you’re mad and horny and feel like you haven’t cum since the Whigs were a major political party, and you find your dick enveloped in a teenage goddess’s tight, hot pussy, and she’s moaning and writhing with pleasure under you…well, ‘pulling out’ isn’t the first idea that springs to mind.

Over the past ten days, I’d had some moments I wasn’t at all proud of. I’d given into my wife’s machinations far more often than I should have, and my mind had been almost-constantly filled with terrible thoughts.

But, in that moment, with my rock-hard cock sliding into my daughter’s _extremely_ willing wetness, I am proud to say…I resisted.

“No,” I gasped. “Mary, no. We can’t do this.”

The look of heartbreak on my daughter’s face as I pulled out was almost enough to make me regret what I was doing.

Almost.

Mary had gotten me mad, riled me up so that I’d take her, so that I’d fuck her like an animal. In that moment, I suspect she would have given _anything_ for me to bend her over, hold her down, and pound into her as hard as I could.

And honestly, in that moment, there were very few things that I wanted more.

But one of them—the most important—was to be a good father…and so I didn’t.

“Go to bed,” I said softly. I ignored the tears welling up in my daughter’s eyes. Even though I’d only been inside her for a moment, the breeze running across my dick told me just how wet she’d been. “Mary, please. Go to bed.”

There was a look of real pain in her eyes as she shook her head, but I pressed on.

“Honey, we’ll talk in the morning. We’ll fool around tomorrow night. Anything you want. _Almost_ anything. We can get through this, my love. We’re in this together.”

When my wife finally managed to speak, her voice was choked with tears.

“Andrew, I…I can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked patiently. Now that I’d gotten through the moments of madness, I was confident in my ability to stay calm, to resist.

I’d done it once, I could do it again.

“Spike…”

The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the dirtbag’s name, but I forced myself not to get worked up.

“Mmm?”

“Spike and Lacey are…they’re outside.”

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out my Patreon!


	Chapter 34

My mouth fell open.

“What do you mean they’re _outside_?”

“Andrew…”

“What. Do. You. Mean.”

A tear formed in my daughter’s eye, and slowly rolled down her cheek.

“Mary…”

“I really did nod,” she replied, her voice no louder than a whisper.

My eyebrows shot up.

“You nodded,” I echoed, trying—and utterly failing—to mask my anger.

“And they said they’d come and get me,” my wife gulped. “Tonight.”

“And?”

“They’re here. I just got a message.”

“Mary…”

“I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “God, Andrew, I’m sorry. But I wasn’t kidding. This body…these hormones…I can’t control them.”

“You have to try har—…”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Mary interrupted, clenching our daughter’s hands. “Fuck, Andrew! Do you think I’m not trying? But I…I can’t.”

In the next few moments, two things occurred to me at once.

The first was that I’d managed to simultaneously overestimate and underestimate my wife.

I’d really thought she had made the whole Spike and Lacey thing up to trick me, to trick me into fucking her.

To trick me into fucking our daughter.

And the reason I’d overestimated her…was because at the same time, I’d underestimated her.

My wife is a wonderful woman. I’m unabashedly in love with her, as much as I was the day we met. More, even—I’ve watched her grow and blossom. She’s more _her_ than she ever was, and we’ve spent twenty years building a beautiful life together.

She’s smart, beautiful, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. (Including, to my frequent frustration, me.)

I’d assumed that she would be more than a match for the hormones of a teenage girl.

I’d been wrong.

So that was the first thing.

My second realization was that despite—or perhaps because of—my wife’s confession, I was once more rock hard.

I was rock hard, and my cock was pointing directly at my teenage daughter’s bare cunt.

As I absorbed those two facts, they combined to form a third, more powerful realization.

My wife needed to be fucked.

My wife _needed_ to be fucked…and if I didn’t do it, someone else would.

“You need to keep it together,” I grunted, leaning over my daughter’s naked body.

“I know,” Mary sniffled.

God, the sight of a tear running down my daughter’s face definitely shouldn’t have made my cock throb, right?

I tried not to think about it.

“You’re losing control. There’s only a few days left, Mary—you need to get on top of this.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” she said, staring at me balefully.

“I’m going to help you.”

Belle’s eyes widened. Her voice was questioning, hopeful.

“How?”

“Like this,” I said, thrusting forward with a grunt.

“Oh, _fuck_.”

My wife moaned, louder than I would have liked. My hand moved instinctively, covering her mouth.

If that had happened half an hour ago, I would have assumed that she made the noise specifically _to_ make me gag her.

Now? I wasn’t so sure.

She was really starting to worry me. Fucking the crazy out of her seemed to be the only thing I could do that would really help.

At least, that’s what I told myself. That’s what I needed to believe.

Because otherwise, I was fucking my teenage daughter for the sheer pleasure of it.

“Mmmf,” Mary moaned, my hand preventing anything more coherent from leaving our daughter’s mouth.

The first time I’d fucked Belle—Mary in Belle’s body, that is—I’d been laying on the bed, and yes, she’d done all the work.

The second time my cock had entered my teenage daughter’s pussy, just a few minutes ago, she’d been bent over the bed.

This time, she was facing me. I could see her face as I entered her, as I slid inside my daughter’s wetness. I could see the look of shock as inch after inch of my cock filled her up.

This time, I was in control. I was in control, and I could see her face as I fucked her.

Pushing Belle back onto the bed, I lay on top of her. My wife always loved the feeling of my body above her; she said it made her feel vulnerable and safe, all at once.

I suspected that she’d like it just as much—if not more—while inside our daughter’s body.

“Mmf,” she said again, as I pulled out of Belle’s tight cunt, and started fucking her in earnest.

It had been less than two weeks since my wife and I had last made love, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Even from within Belle’s body, it was a familiar experience—she’d push against me as I entered, gasp as I pulled out, and she pulled and tugged on our daughter’s long pink nipples, knowing how much I loved watching it.

It wasn’t long before I recognized the signs—Belle was cumming. My wife, in my daughter’s body, was cumming around my cock.

And my own orgasm wasn’t far behind.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out my Patreon!


	Chapter 35

“I’m cumming,” my wife-in-my-daughter’s-body moaned, so loudly I was briefly worried that my daughter-in-my-wife’s-body would hear us. “Oh, _Daddy_ …”

I could feel it. Wave after wave of lubrication, as my daughter’s pussy got closer to orgasm.

As did I.

A part of me wondered if I should pull out. It was an unanswerable ethical question—is it better to pull out of your daughter’s pussy and cum onto her sweaty, olive skin, or should you just go ahead and cum inside her?

Before I could even begin to unpack that, the decision was made for me. Belle’s legs wrapped around me, pulling me down onto the bed. My body fell into hers, every inch of her bare skin pressing against me.

“I’m cumming,” I gasped, and Belle’s eyes widened.

“Do it, Daddy,” she implored. “Please…”

My hips thrust forward with need, as I did what I’d been desperately wanting to do (and not wanting to think about) for the past week. My cock began twitching, and soon I was pumping a load of cum deep inside my naked, flushed daughter.

“Yessss…Daddy…”

Her groan was so loud, I looked up at the window in panic. It was double-glazed…but had it been open, Spike and Lacey would have undoubtedly been able to hear her cries of pleasure.

My orgasm barely behind me, I was suddenly thinking clearly again. All at once, I was acutely aware of how dangerous—how _stupid_ —what we’d just done was.

The window was closed, thank Christ, but Mary’s body was still in the house. She was supposed to be asleep downstairs, but if she wasn’t—if she’d come up for _any_ reason—my daughter would have heard the sound of her own body loudly cumming, crying “Daddy” as she did.

I should have kept my hand over her mouth. Or gagged her.

We should have been more careful. We should have waited until my wife’s body had a glass of wine in her, and then locked the door.

Or, best of all, we shouldn’t have been fucking at all.

But I was starting to wonder if that was even an option anymore.

As my daughter’s cunt twitched around my cock, her eyes rolled back in her head, and a look of serenity appeared on her face. For the first time since my wife had switched bodies with our daughter, she didn’t have the nervous energy of a horny teenager.

Despite the shortsighted way we’d gone about it, this had worked. She looked…calm.

I smiled down at her.

Next time, we’d be smarter.

As I pulled my cock out of my daughter’s pink pussy, she moaned, softly protesting. I reached up and teasingly pinched one of Belle’s long pink nipples, surprising myself.

For the first time in a week, I too felt calm.

She’d been right.

I’d fought against it, tried to reach all manner of compromise. I’d done everything I could to avoid the facts of the matter: my wife, in my daughter’s body, needed to be _fucked_.

She needed it.

And maybe I had too.

After all we’d done—after the blowjobs, and the photos, and even the sex where I’d just lain there…after a week of being mercilessly teased by the sexiest creature the devil could have possibly devised, I’d needed it too.

I ran one hand down the side of my daughter’s body. Now that I’d gotten it out of my system, now that I’d given her the fucking that we’d both so desperately needed, I was able to appreciate her form for what it was.

My daughter, somewhat unfairly, had a perfect body. Olive skin, huge tits, perfect curves, and a mostly-flat stomach. She was just old enough to have lost all of her puppy-fat, and young enough that her skin was flawless, and her tits—despite their size—didn’t seem to sag at all.

Belle twitched at the attention my hand was giving her, and my eyes were instinctively drawn to her pink pussy. Sure enough, some of my cum dribbled out of her—something that drove me wild when my wife did it.

But here, now, it didn’t have the same effect. Ever since the mad Monday that had started this ridiculous series of events, I felt calm enough to admire my daughter’s body like one would admire a work of art—dispassionately appreciating the beauty, not being driven wild by the sexuality of it.

“You should go to bed,” I said gently. It didn’t sound like my daughter (in my wife’s body) had heard anything. “Text Spunk and Libby, and let them know that you’ve changed your mind, and you’re not interested in a threesome.”

“’Kay,” my wife (in my daughter’s body) said in a grumble, a piece of vernacular I assumed she’d picked up from the kids at school. I’d certainly never heard her say it before now.

As she fumbled around in the clothes she’d unceremoniously torn off a few minutes earlier, I crossed to the window. Sure enough, there was a strange car parked across the road. It was too dark for me to confirm who was in it, but I could see the light of a phone moving around through the windshield.

_Not tonight, Sparky,_ I thought with a smile. No one would describe me as a stud, but in the twenty-odd years I’ve been sexually active, I’ve had my fair share of intimate moments. With the possible exception of sex for procreation (making Belle, and then Ben a few years later), I can’t think of another occasion when I’ve used my cock for good, but that was clearly what had happened tonight.

I’d just fucked my wife into a stupor, and saved my daughter from doing something I knew she’d regret.

Or, perhaps more accurately, stopped my wife from doing something that my daughter would regret.

I heard the clicking sound of Belle’s phone typing a response, but just as I was about to turn back to see what she was saying, I noticed something.

My wife—well, my wife’s body—leaving the house, and crossing the street to the strange car.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 36

I have no idea what I expected, but I can tell you—if I’d had time to make an ordered list, my wife _getting into the car_ would have been right at the very bottom.

And yet, that was what happened. I watched in shock as Mary—the woman I’d been married to for almost half my life—opened the rear door of Spat’s car, and got into the vehicle with a pair of teenage delinquents.

“Mary!” I said urgently, and my daughter’s voice responded with a gentle “Mmm?”

I turned around. Belle’s body was still naked, and her eyes were staring vacuously into the phone—the latter half was a sight I’d become far too familiar with over the past few years, and the former was one that I’d become uncomfortably accustomed to over the past few days. “I mean…Belle.”

“What is it?” she said, raising her eyes and shooting me a contented smile.

“Your mother…your body…”

She put the phone down, and sat up with concern, her large breasts swaying slightly at the movement.

“She just _got in the car_.”

A smile spread across my daughter’s face, and I stared at her, completely nonplussed. “What the hell is there to _smile_ about?”

“Go Belle,” Mary said with a yawn. “I mean, the girl knows what she wants.”

There was a long silence, as I openly gaped at the nonchalant attitude my wife seemed to have about _her body_ getting involved in a teenage threesome. Finally, she broke the silence with a laugh.

“C’mon, Andy…do you really think that our daughter would do that?”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. She’s had a few rough years, but she’s still a good person. She’d never do something like that with her own mother’s body.”

Still lost for words, I gestured at the sight in front of me. Mary, in our daughter’s body, laying completely naked on our marital bed, while my cum still dripping out of her.

“What?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at my expression.

“Mary,” I said slowly. “I just fucked you. I just fucked you as hard as I’ve ever fucked anyone.”

“I know,” she replied, stretching luxuriously. I tried to ignore how effectively the motion showed off my daughter’s tits. “Wasn’t it glorious?”

“Mary,” I repeated. “You and I are good people. Moral. Upstanding members of society. If _we_ did that with our _daughter’s_ body, what’s stopping her from doing the same with yours?”

That got my wife’s attention, and I saw a flicker of worry cross my daughter’s face.

“That’s different,” she said, sounding more than a little unsure.

“How?”

“Belle…Belle’s never had sex before,” she said. “I’m sure she wouldn’t want her first time to be in her mother’s body.”

“If I’d asked you a month ago if you _ever_ wanted to have sex in your daughter’s body, what would you have said?”

“That’s _different_ ,” she repeated, a note of desperation in her voice. “Right?”

“I don’t see why,” I said. “You said it yourself—if Belle’s nose itches, you’re the one who has to scratch it. You stopped thinking of it as her body, and started thinking of it as yours. Maybe our daughter feels the same way.”

I had expected disagreement, but—somewhat alarmingly—my wife had no response.

“Besides,” I continued, as another thought struck me. “Maybe it works the other way. Maybe she figures that since, y’know… _you_ aren’t a virgin, there’s no real harm in using your body to get laid.”

Again, a silence that I was quickly finding unnerving.

“I mean, that’s almost the exact same logic you used, right? Belle didn’t have a hymen, so it was fine for us to…”

I gestured to the bed once more. My daughter’s face had turned a pale white.

“Fuck,” she said simply, and my eyebrows shot up.

Despite making the case, I hadn’t really…believed it. I hadn’t _wanted_ to believe it. I had wanted my wife to convince me that I was wrong, that I was being ridiculous, that Belle would respect her mother’s bodily autonomy.

In a way that her mother and I had utterly failed to do.

“Fuck,” I echoed, and she glanced at her phone.

“Any response?” I asked, and my wife shoot our daughter’s head.

I glanced out the window once more, and my heart skipped a beat.

“It’s gone.”

“What??”

“Snoop’s car,” I said, looking at her, wide-eyed. “It’s gone.”

* * *

I didn’t sleep that night. I’m not normally an anxious man, but…well, the last week’s events had been more than a little abnormal. Between my wife’s mind using my daughter’s body to seduce me—and succeeding—and dealing with the bizarre jealousy caused by my daughter’s mind using my wife’s body to lust after a teenage dirtbag, nothing I did seemed to calm my mind enough to let me sleep.

Mary had tried to talk me down, but to no avail. Her arguments were flimsy…which I think she knew, because she offered very little defense when I attacked them.

“She wouldn’t do that,” she tried to insist. “She wouldn’t do anything to harm our marriage.”

“She’d assume I’d never find out,” I replied. “You know how smart teenagers think they are.”

“Spike and Lacey would never go for it,” she countered. “They’re into teenagers, not old women.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” I responded. “You’re a total MILF, and Spike knows he’d be lucky to have you.”

“Lacey would never go for it. She’d think it was weird.”

“She signed on for a threesome with her boyfriend’s ex. I don’t think she’s quite as discerning as you’re hoping she is.”

After that, she fell silent, so I sent her to wash off and try to get some sleep. There was no reason for both of us to lose a night’s rest.

I’m not normally prone to anxiety, but when I only have partial information about something important, I can start spinning out. If I don’t know _anything_ , that’s fine, I can just not think about it. And if I know everything, that’s obviously not an issue.

But when I know _half_ the story—and it’s something I care about, not a superhero movie, or gossip about a neighbor—I can’t stop thinking about it. My mind starts trying to explore every path…but with only partial information, that’s a million, million paths. I start concocting ridiculous scenarios, but without enough information to rule them out, I keep thinking about it on a loop.

Where was she? What if they kidnapped her? What if she ran away with Spike, and my wife and daughter could never switch back? What if they got her drunk, or gave her a spiked drink, or poisoned her, or or or or…

And almost every path led me to the same, dreadful question. The question I didn’t want to consider, but couldn’t avoid.

What if, right now, my wife’s body was having sex with a teenage boy?

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 37

At 6am, I finally stopped staring out the window, and went downstairs to get some coffee. I wasn’t going to be able to rest until my wife got home; of that, I was certain.

When I wasn’t looking outside, frantically awaiting the return of my wife, I was staring at my phone. Mary and I have “Find My Friend” activated.

It hadn’t helped—for whatever reason, Belle hadn’t taken her mother’s phone with her.

It was the first time I’d actually _wished_ my daughter was incapable of spending fifteen seconds away from the damned device.

But the street remained empty, and the dot remained downstairs. I hadn’t wanted to go down and find the phone—the risk of getting caught by my wife’s body sneaking back into the house was too great. That would be an impossibly awkward conversation on both sides, and I knew that Mary and I would need to strategize before we confronted her.

And so I was more than a little surprised when I entered the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of my wife. As in, my wife’s body. Her eyes were red (although she certainly didn’t look as tired as I must have), but she greeted me with a smile.

“Hey honey-chicken,” Belle said, surprising me with a peck on the cheek. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”

“No,” I croaked in response, staring at her in shock. “Did…you?”

“Some,” she shrugged. “You want a coffee? I just made a fresh batch.”

It’s pretty common for kids to drink coffee these days (a fact which is still weird to me; I wasn’t allowed near the stuff until I left home) so our daughter does actually know how to use the machine.

Better than my wife, if I’m being honest.

“Please,” I grunted, sitting down at the table. My head was spinning. How had she managed to sneak back inside without me noticing?

I glanced at the door behind her, and almost slapped myself in frustration. Of course—there was more than one entrance to the damn house. Belle must’ve had Spike drop her off at the park behind our place, and then sneaked back in while I was staring intently at an empty road.

I eyed my wife’s body carefully, trying to work out if she had the appearance of someone who had only _just_ come back inside…or if she’d been back for hours. It didn’t take me long to conlcude that…I had no idea.

Sherlock, I ain’t.

Her hair didn’t look wet, so she hadn’t showered…at least, in the last half-hour or so. And there were no signs that she’d recently been in a threesome with a pair of teens…but I had no idea what those signs would have looked like if they _had_ been there.

No, the only thing that I could definitively conclude was that she was…there.

And possibly had been for hours. I could have spent the night awake for absolutely no reason.

Great.

As she was pouring the coffee, I held up one hand. “Wait,” I said, my voice crackling with a lack of sleep. “I should get some more rest.”

“Okay,” she said, a huge smile on her face.

Cliché as it may have been to say, she looked happy. _Too_ happy.

My heart sank as I realized what that must have meant.

She’d done it. My daughter had used my wife’s body to fuck a teenager. No, _two_ —a drug-dealing teenager and his slutty, cheating girlfriend.

My wife’s body had been used for a threesome.

I wanted to be jealous. I wanted the jealousy to fill me with energy. I had no idea what I would have done with the energy—found Skip and stomped his stupid head in, perhaps—but anything, _anything_ would have been better than how I felt in that moment.

Exhausted. Fatigued. And completely, utterly flat.

My wife had just cheated on me. In body, if not in mind. After twenty years of marriage, after twenty years of fidelity, my daughter had taken the body of the woman I loved…and used it to have a stupid, tawdry threesome with some kids from her school.

I felt completely and utterly crushed, and my footsteps were heavy as I made my way back to my bed, and fell into a long, dreamless sleep

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 38

I was awoken by a sight that I wasn’t expecting…although perhaps I should have.

My daughter’s naked body, with my wife’s familiar grin plastered on her face.

“What’re you doing?” I grunted. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“I was,” Mary purred. “It’s the afternoon, _Daddy_.”

I rolled my eyes at her complete lack of subtlety, then realized what had happened. I’d stayed up all night fretting about my wife’s whereabouts, then slept the day away.

Great. Now my circadian rhythms would be shot for a month.

Sitting up, I noticed my daughter’s school uniform laying on the floor, where she’d presumably shucked it before waking me up. My eyebrows raised as I realized there was a pair of panties and a bra in the pile.

At least she was wearing underwear to school again.

“Go get me a coffee,” I grunted. “Then we’ll talk.”

“Don’t want to talk,” she pouted. “I want this…”

I slapped her hand away before it could reach my crotch. “Coffee first,” I repeated. “And put some clothes on—if anyone looks through a window and sees Belle walking around naked, that’s going to be tricky to explain.”

“Fine,” she sighed, leaving the room without picking up her uniform first.

When Mary returned a few minutes later, she’d dressed Belle in a midriff-baring crop top and a pair of denim shorts that I had no idea our daughter owned.

More importantly, she came bearing a hot cup of coffee, and a packet of my favorite cookies. Not the healthiest of afternoon breakfasts, I’ll admit, but by the time I’d consumed both, I was feeling much more human.

“Okay,” I said, as I swallowed down the last of the coffee. “So, last night.”

“Wasn’t it _amazing_ ,” my wife replied dreamily.

“Not that,” I said, waving it off. “Afterwards. Your body. Sputnik. We need to work out what the fuck happened.”

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Mary said unconvincingly.

“Why?”

“Well, I just…I don’t think Belle would do that.”

“We went through this last night,” I said patiently. “You can’t sit there and tell me that Belle would never use her mother’s body like that with one breath, while thanking me for fucking our daughter’s body with the next.”

“Other way around,” she mumbled in response, and I rolled my eyes.

“Let’s face the facts. Any logic that you can use to justify what we’ve done with her body, she can use to justify doing with yours. I have no idea how _this_ works…”

I gestured vaguely at the scantily-clad teen sitting in front of me.

“…but it seems obvious that it hasn’t given anyone a particularly strong sense of respect for the bodily autonomy of the original owner.”

“But this is different,” she said, putting her hand on mine, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than me.

“ _Why?_ ” I asked again.

“Because the only reason we’ve done anything is because Belle’s body is going through changes. She’s so hormonal, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. If we hadn’t done what we did last night, I swear…I would have lost it. I would have lost myself.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but grin.

“What?”

“It’s just…you really have become a teenager,” I replied. “I mean, you’re literally justifying what we’ve done with ‘I needed to because I was horny.’”

My wife didn’t mirror my chuckle. It was obvious that she didn’t find the situation as amusing as I did.

“You laugh, but I’m being serious. I know my body, and it’s never felt…like this.”

In response, I raised an eyebrow.

“Today’s the eleventh day,” I responded. “When was the last time we went more than ten days without sex?”

My daughter’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

“When you went on that cruise with your girlfriends, remember? By the second week, you were calling me from the ship’s phone, begging me to steal a helicopter and come fuck you.”

“Not the same,” Mary said firmly. “I didn’t have my vibrators, and I was drinking a lot of wine, and it was the first time I’d ever felt so free, and I…there was…”

She trailed off, and I nodded.

“Exactly.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, until I broke it with a question I’d been holding in since the previous night.

“Do you think our daughter’s gay?”

At that, Mary laughed.

“Trust me,” she said. “As the person inhabiting her body, she’s _definitely_ into cock.”

“What, the desires come with the body?”

“Yeah. I mean, there are definitely things I’m into…in here…that I’ve never even thought about before.”

My eyes widened.

“Wait…does that mean that Belle is into _me_?”

“No, no,” my wife replied immediately, tapping her head. “No, that definitely just comes from here. I want you because I know how good you are in bed.”

She grinned. Mary’s sauciest smile, on my daughter’s soft, pink lips. “And because of how much I like your cock.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Great. So if Belle isn’t gay, she…probably wouldn’t have done it, right?”

“Had sex with Spike? I’m not sure if you know how ‘gay’ works.”

“No, I mean…the threesome. Like, surely that requires one to be at least a little bit gay.”

A tinge of pink appeared on my daughter’s face.

“What is it?” I asked gently, but Belle’s eyes refused to meet mine.

“Well…like I said, I think the desires come with the body.”

“Oh, right. So if she’s in your body, she’s _definitely_ not gay.”

Again, my wife avoided my gaze.

“Mary?”

“I’m not _gay_ gay,” she said.

My eyebrows shot up.

“But you’re a little gay?”

Still not looking anywhere near me, my wife gave the half-shrug that I’d seen on Belle so many times over the past few years.

There was another long silence.

“Wow,” I finally said. “You, uh…never mentioned.”

“I don’t think I really realized it,” she said, finally making eye-contact with me. “I mean, until I switched with Belle, and realized that feeling was…missing.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“Well,” I said slowly, “You’re telling me that our daughter switched into a new body…with a new desire, something she’d never felt before. And as you’ve spent the last ten days informing me, that feeling can be…y’know. Pretty overwhelming.”

“Ah,” my wife echoed, and silence descended uon us once more.

“I saw Lacey today.”

I gulped.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she look like…”

I stopped myself, refusing to ask the question. ‘Did she look like she had a threesome with her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s mom?’

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“She said something,” Mary mumbled.

I paused, not sure if I wanted to know.

“About you?” I finally asked.

Mary nodded.

“About…last night?”

Another nod.

“Something that…suggested that maybe they…did it?”

To my dismay, a third nod.

“What’d she say?”

“She was kind of…gloating.”

My heart sank. I’d been holding onto a thin, thin sliver. Even as I disagreed with them, I’d been storing away my wife’s unconvincing words. I would have taken anything, any thin explanation as to why our daughter _hadn’t_ used her mother’s body for a threesome.

“What did she say?” I finally asked. Better, I figured, to bite the bullet.

“Your mother,” Mary quoted. “I would never have guessed it.”

“Guessed what?”

“Guessed that she liked to party.”

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 39

Frankly, I would have been okay with letting the silence stretch on for years. Decades. I would have been fine with letting future archeologists find us, sitting in my bedroom, long dead. I could picture it so clearly—even with all the technology of the distant future, we would have been a mystery, leaving people to wonder what exactly caused a silence so long that it had managed to kill two people.

And I’ll bet that even after a year of study and conjecture, they would never have landed on the truth: after swapping bodies with her daughter, the mother (and loving wife) just learned that her body was used in a threesome with her daughter’s ex-boyfriend and his new girl.

Just like that morning, I was once again completely flat. I just…I didn’t know what else to feel.

I wasn’t angry, although maybe I should’ve been. I guess I just wasn’t sure who to be angry _at_. In Spike’s position, I probably would’ve done the exact same thing. I hadn’t seen much of Lacey, but she obviously wasn’t the brains behind the operation.

And Belle…she was just a teenager. She’d been given a new body with new bisexual urges, and she hadn’t known how to handle them. When she’d switched, Spike had _been_ her boyfriend—of course she still had feelings for him.

It wasn’t even like I could be mad at her for not respecting her mother’s body; after all, just before she’d gone off and…transgressed…I’d been upstairs, fucking her body as hard as I possibly could.

How could I be mad at her for something that her mother and I had just done?

“Andrew?”

My daughter’s voice broke me out of my reverie.

“Hmm?”

“We have less than an hour before Belle gets home.”

I nodded. “Yeah. We should work out what to do about this. Do you…do you think she used protection?”

An image flashed across my mind: my wife, pregnant with a teenage boy’s baby. For the first time since I’d seen Mary’s body crossing the road, I felt a flash of anger appear inside me.

“I’m sure she did,” my wife said. “She knows about safe sex.”

“Did you have the talk with her?”

“Yeah, but that’s not why. She had a packet of condoms next to her diary. Unopened, but I’m sure she didn’t do anything stupid.”

The anger crackled. Suddenly in the image of my wife beneath the leather-jacketed teenager, Mary’s body had been replaced by my daughter’s.

The past week had been so intense, so confusing…I honestly couldn’t tell which picture in my head angered me more.

“Okay. Do you think they’re going to tell anyone? If this gets out…”

My wife held one hand up, and I fell silent.

“These are great questions, and we should definitely discuss them more, but Belle will be home soon.”

“Right,” I said, confused. “So shouldn’t we talk this through before then? We need to work out what we’re going to say, if anything.”

“That can come later,” Mary said, moving one hand to my leg. “I really thought that before she got home, we could…”

I stared at her, aghast. “What!? After…after what she did in your body, you want to…”

Mary directed Belle’s huge eyes at me.

“Well, yeah,” she said, looking at me innocently. “I spent the whole day remembering what we did last night, and…”

I stood up, cutting her off. “Jesus, Mary, I don’t believe this. Our daughter just used _your body_ to fuck two idiot teenagers in a car, and you want to have _sex_.”

“I don’t just want to,” she said pleadingly. “Andrew, I need this. You know I do.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “Seriously!?”

“Yes! God, Andrew, it’s not like the hormones suddenly went away just because you got jealous.”

“You think I’m _jealous_?”

“Of course you’re jealous! Who wouldn’t be? Spike is younger than you, he’s…”

Mary trailed off guiltily.

“Wait,” she said. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I’m not jealous,” I said calmly, if not entirely honestly. “I’m mad.”

“Oh, she’s just a teenager…” Mary started, wrinkling Belle’s nose.

“I’m not mad at her,” I continued. “I’m mad at you.”

Belle sighed, an action that left me unable to avoid noticing my wife hadn’t donned a bra beneath the yellow crop-top.

“Andrew,” she said wearily. “Please, can we just…”

“You swapped bodies with our daughter,” I said coldly. “Then, when you couldn’t handle the hormones, you made me do the unthinkable. There are images floating around my head that I will never, ever be able to get out. And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, you put our daughter into _your body_ without warning…”

“I thought she could handle it!”

“Well, you thought wrong! The bisexual urges, your libido…and then you invite her boyfriend over here for a threesome?”

“I didn’t!”

I hadn’t noticed, but we were no longer sitting on the bed—we were standing, shouting at each other. I had flashbacks to the early years of our relationship, before we’d gotten married…or the shouting matches I’d had with Belle in the past few years.

Tears were streaming down my daughter’s face, and this time they weren’t from choking on my cock.

“Yes, you did!” I yelled. “What, you don’t remember? Stomp asked you for a threesome, and what did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything!”

“Oh no, that’s right. You _nodded_. There’s no way you could be blamed for that, is there? A nod, a perfectly reasonable, adult response to the offer of a threesome.”

“I did all this for her,” Mary said, our daughter’s voice coming out as a sob.

“Great! Now she’s used _your_ body to lose her virginity, in a threesome with some idiot kid who’s probably going to tell everyone! At least if you hadn’t done something, she would have only ruined her own life—not our marriage in the process!”

Belle’s mouth fell open, and I realized I’d gone too far. I’m not normally one to yell, or even fight…but Mary and Belle both knew how to make me lose my cool.

Mary in Belle’s body was a truly devastating combination.

“Our marriage is ruined?” my wife replied in a small voice, sitting down on the bed in shock.

“No!” I replied immediately, kneeling beside her. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was just…”

Belle’s eyes looked up at me balefully. “You were just what?”

I sighed, and rested my head on my daughter’s knee. “It’s been a big week, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

Belle’s hand rested lightly on my head, and she began running her fingers through my hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I messed it all up.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “It’s just…a lot has happened. When you first told me that you and Belle had swapped bodies, I never thought it would result in any of this.”

“It hasn’t all been bad though, right?”

“Right,” I nodded.

“I mean, if nothing else, the sex has been pretty good.”

I laughed. “Yeah. Pretty good.”

“I’ll probably be thinking about last night until the day I die.”

“Me too,” I admitted with a smile.

“So…”

“No,” I said immediately. You spend twenty years married to someone, you get pretty good at guessing what they’re going to say next.

Belle laughed—that soft, tinkling laugh that reminded me so much of my wife’s laugh when I met her.

“I had to try,” she said gently.

“Come on,” I replied, standing up. “Let’s go and get dinner on. At least once before this is over I want to eat something that hasn’t come out of a plastic bag. We’ll have a meal together, then I’ll spend the evening catching up on the work I didn’t do today.”

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 40

Belle may have been better than her mother at making coffee, but Mary was a true whiz in the kitchen. She loved cooking for other people, me most of all.

I read an article a while back about the long-term effects of marriage. It talked about how when you’re in a relationship with someone over many years, you basically end up outsourcing parts of your brain. They’re in charge of remembering dates, you’re in charge of knowing where the USB cords live; they become the navigator, you’re responsible for car maintenance.

Cooking was a little bit like that in our marriage. Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t completely useless. I knew how to fry an egg or grill a steak. I’d even mastered the fine art of chopping up vegetables and putting them in the microwave with a little bit of water.

But between Mary’s love of cooking and my love of Mary’s cooking, she had firmly claimed the kitchen, and we were both perfectly happy with the arrangement.

It was impossible to count how many times I’d sat in the kitchen as my wife flitted around, giving me small tasks (“dice these, will you?”) while she turned a pile of groceries into fine cuisine.

And so as I sat, watching my wife navigate our daughter’s body in the kitchen we’d shared for almost two decades, I was filled with a strange combination of nostalgia and unease. We’d done this before, many times.

But never quite like this.

I was completely and utterly in love with my wife. I do hope I’ve made that clear by now—my wife was my one true love. She always had been, and always would be.

As well as that, I was more attracted to her than any woman I’d met before her. Ignoring the past two weeks—which were so impossibly far from typical—I’d barely glanced at another woman in decades.

So when we spent these hours in the kitchen, it was common for me to check her out. I don’t know if it’s a primal thing—perhaps we’re just naturally more attracted to people who provide for us—or if there was something hot about the vaguely submissive nature of seeing her ‘serve’ me food.

Whatever the cause, I was never more attracted to my wife than when she was cooking. On many an occasion, Mary had been forced to bat my hands away from her derriere while she stood at the oven.

And even more often than that, she’d ended up bending over the countertop and allow me to take her then and there, until we both reached a shuddering orgasm right in the middle of the kitchen.

Despite the events of last night, despite the aching worry in my gut, I found my eyes naturally drifting south to my daughter’s derriere. Mary had chosen the outfit well—she knew how much I liked denim shorts, and Belle’s ass did a particularly good job of filling them out.

And I was reasonably certain that if I were to reach out and grab it, my wife wouldn’t stop me.

She’d quite happily bend over and allow me to take her, right then and there.

I could fuck my daughter in my own kitchen, and no one would sto pme.

“What is it, darling?” my wife asked in response to my heavy sigh. She was the kind of person who really got into whatever she was doing—as she assembled the meal, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d completely forgotten about our current situation.

I, meanwhile, could think of nothing else. My erection didn’t distract me; it reminded me of what we’d done.

My wife and I had made a home together. We’d built a life over twenty years.

And in one simple, stupid move, my daughter had torn down everything we’d worked so hard to build.

“Nothing,’ I replied, and Mary was so distracted by the boiling pot in front of her, she didn’t even bother to follow up. I pulled out the newspaper and started doing a sudoku to distract myself.

Three more days. We just had to get through three more days.

I just had to get through three more days and I’d have my wife back. I’d have my _life_ back. A better life, even. A life where my daughter respected her parents.

A life where my wife had engaged in a tawdry threesome with a drug dealer and his girlfriend.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

Our body is just a vehicle for our brains, I reminded myself. That was how we’d justified it. I hadn’t fucked my _daughter_ , not really. I’d fucked her body. My wife had been steering, so it wasn’t like I’d actually had sex with Belle.

We’d just been…borrowing her body, like you’d borrow a neighbor’s car.

I had to believe that, otherwise I was just a monster. But if I believed that, surely I couldn’t be upset about Belle’s actions. Not really.

The sex I’d had the previous night wasn’t incest. It had been sex with my wife, my loving wife. My wife had begged me to fuck her, and I’d obliged.

She’d just happened to be in my daughter’s body at the time.

And so it followed that Mary hadn’t cheated on me. Even if her…her body had been involved in a threesome with two strangers. It hadn’t been her inside, and that was what counted.

Last night, I’d had sex with my wife, and my daughter had fucked two idiot teens.

They’d just been borrowing each other’s bodies at the time.

“Andrew? Are you okay?”

I suddenly realized that my wife had been trying to get my attention for a few moments. I had just been sitting there, eyes closed, head pounding, trying to process the situation. Trying really, really hard to make sense of the last day…and the ten before that.

“Uh huh,” I nodded, looking up.

Oh, crap.

“I’m all done,” Mary said, swaying our daughter’s body back and forth provocatively. “While dinner cooks, how about we get a head-start on dessert?”

“Mary…” I said warningly, but I don’t think either of us really believed that I wanted her to stop.

“A _head_ start,” she repeated, dropping to her knees with a grin.

Two weeks ago, watching my daughter’s hand fish my cock out of my pants would have been unthinkable.

One week ago, I would have pushed back, and my wife probably would have had to spend an hour convincing me that she _needed_ to suck my cock, that it was the only way she could get through school the next day.

But now, as my daughter’s mouth closed over my cock, I didn’t try to stop her. I didn’t fight back.

Instead, I glanced at the clock and wondered if we had enough time to fuck before my wife got home.

It’s amazing how much can change in just a couple of weeks.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 41

Mary’s body was two steps into the kitchen before I even realized she was home.

“Belle!!” she exclaimed, and my daughter’s body froze.

“M-mum?” she stammered in response.

“What…what are you _wearing_?” she asked, and both of us suddenly relaxed.

I’d decided fucking my daughter was too risky; by sticking to head, we could both remain fully-clothed, and if we heard someone coming, I could quickly hide my cock and Belle could act as though she’d just dropped something.

Just a few minutes later, I was smiling contentedly as I watched my daughter swallow down my seed. Not unexpectedly, I felt a whole lot more relaxed—I still had no idea how to come to terms with the situation, but as Belle’s body stood up, I was able to attack my sudoku without being distracted by the uniquely bizarre situation we were trapped in.

“Oh, you like this?” she asked, turning from side to side.

I knew it was risky, but I couldn’t help but stare. My daughter’s body was unbelievable, but it was more than that. My wife clearly got so much _pleasure_ from showing it off—there was an exhibitionistic energy, a palpable haze of lust eminating from her as she drank in my gaze.

She was subtle about it, of course—my wife made sure that our daughter’s eyes never so much as flicked in my direction—but we both knew what was happening. She was enjoying my attention…and god help me, I was enjoying giving it to her.

“It looks amazing,” Belle said, using her mother’s hand to reach out and touch her own side. I shifted uncomfortably—despite having just released my tension a few minutes ago, the sight of the two most attractive women I’d ever seen, touching each other…

It forced erotic images into my brain that were very, very unwelcome.

“I didn’t realize it was new,” I said, slightly louder than I had intended. Both women jumped, and I saw a guilty look cross my daughter’s face.

Ah. It seemed that Mary had been shopping. A part of me wanted to be annoyed that she’d been spending money to expose our daughter’s body, but…well, of everything that had happened in the last week, that particular act was pretty low on the priority list.

Besides, it had worked. I couldn’t deny it—I found her outfit hot as hell.

“I made dinner,” my wife said brightly, and for the first time in a long while, the three of us sat down to eat as a family.

It was a delicious meal, but I think we were all too distracted to truly appreciate it. Probably for the best—if Belle had put serious thought into it, she would quickly have realized that she didn’t have anywhere close to the culinary talent required to put a meal like this together.

I spent the meal staring at my wife’s body, trying to read her mind…what was she thinking about? Was she remembering what it had been like in the back of Scott’s car, sandwiched between his greasy skin and skanky girlfriend? Was Belle feeling as guilty as I had for the first ten days of this situation, trying to mentally reconcile what she’d done with her mother’s body?

Or was she remembering how good it had been? And planning to do it again…

It was this thought that really got to me, and I found a bite of my wife’s delicious pasta going down wrong. My eyes widened, my face turned red, and I gestured to my throat.

Before I could say a word, I could feel my daughter’s hands around my stomach. The Heimlich has been outdated for decades at this point, but when someone of my generation notices that someone’s choking, it’s the first thing that comes to mind…and hey, it still works.

As a soggy chunk flew from my mouth onto the table, I could see Mary’s eyes looking at me, wide.

“Are you okay, Da...uh, dat looked like it hurt.”

“I’m fine,” I wheezed, pushing my plate away. “I think that’s enough for me for the night. I need to catch up on work.”

I wasn’t lying, either—after sleeping the day away, I really was behind. Neither woman said anything as I took my plate to the sink and made my way to my office, spending the next few hours buried in my laptop.

A full stomach, recently-emptied balls, and a near-death experience somehow mixed to provide the exact right level of energy to have a productive evening. I totally lost track of time as I completed invoices, sorted statements, and replied to impatient emails from my most demanding clients.

I was getting ready to wrap up when I heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” I said automatically, rolling my eyes when I saw my daughter at the door, still wearing the provocative outfit she’d had all evening. “Mary…”

“Andrew,” she said, and I suddenly noticed the serious look on her face. “The police are at the door.”

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 42

I sat bolt upright in my chair. “What?”

“There are two police officers here,” Mary said, my daughter’s mouth twisted with worry. “Belle is talking to them now.”

My heart leapt, and my mind started racing, imagining every possible worst-case scenario happening at once. Had someone seen the blowjob I’d received that day? Had someone planted a security camera in the house and captured every obscene act we’d partaken in over the last two weeks?

Or maybe Mary and Belle hadn’t really switched bodies at all. Maybe they’d set this all up to see what I’d do, to see if I truly was the honorable man I’d claimed to be…and now that I’d failed, they’d turned me in, and I was going to spend the rest of my life rotting in prison for the horrible acts that I’d committed.

“It’s okay,” my wife said soothingly, reaching our daughter’s arm out and touching my arm. In my panic, I slapped it away, immediately regretting my actions when I saw the hurt in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We should…I should…can we…”

“Go,” she said simply, and I almost tripped over my own feet as I ran down the hall.

My wife’s body was standing at the front door as Belle talked to the two police officers. One of them looked like he was a few years older than me, while the other looked like he could have been half my age.

“What seems to be the problem?” I stammered, and they threw me a casual glance

The older one smiled, immediately putting me at ease. Policemen don’t look so friendly when they’re about to arrest you for fucking your teenage daughter.

Right?

“I’m handling this,” Belle said firmly, but I pressed on.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, sir,” the younger cop said. “We just, uh…”

He trailed off, and it took me a moment to work out why. My wife had apparently decided this was the best possible time to come and listen—and rather than hiding around a corner, she’d planted our daughter’s body in the middle of the room, squarely in sight of both police officers.

And trust me—they’d noticed.

I coughed politely, and the two men standing in front of me tore their attention away from my daughter’s exposed skin. The older cop resumed answering my question.

“Someone, uh, reported a strange car hanging around last night,” he said, referring to his notes. “We’re just checking to see if anyone knows anything.”

“N-no,” I said, utterly unconvincingly.

“Andrew. I’m handling this.”

My wife’s tone was so stern that for a moment, I wondered if Mary and Belle had switched back. If that wasn’t my wife, she was doing a pitch-perfect impersonation of her…but a glance back at my daughter’s body confirmed that yes, that was still Mary.

Belle enjoyed showing off, but Mary’s exhibitionism was on its own level. She was completely shameless—her arms were behind her back, pushing Belle’s bust forward in a way that showed off her assets while still somehow looking unintentional. As the three of us watched, she tucked one leg behind the other, drawing our attention to her long, smoothly-shaved skin. She swayed back and forth slightly, enough motion to cause her breasts to wobble oh-so-slightly.

She was a walking wet dream, and the combination of her curvy body and innocent attitude was enough to give me an immediate, throbbing erection…despite the two policeman standing right in front of me. Not a particularly smart move, right? They’d likely arrest me if they even suspected I had anything but pure thoughts about my daughter.

“Go to bed,” I growled, wishing—not for the first time—that I was a far better actor than I was.

“Okay Daddy,” she said, and sashayed her way out of the room.

I forced a neutral expression onto my face, then turned back to the cops and rolled my eyes. “Kids, right?”

“Uh huh,” the older one said with a grunt.

“I’ll take care of this,” Belle said once more, and—unable to come up with an excuse to stay—I left her to talk to the police, and decided to find my wife.

The door to my daughter’s bedroom was closed. I don’t know if it was intuition or luck, but instead of just opening the door, I paused, instead pressing my ear up against the wooden barrier.

Seconds later, I was firmly marching back downstairs. It had only taken me a moment to tell what was happening—my wife had apparently enjoyed the attention of the two police officers (and my own lustful gaze)…from what I heard, I’d guess that Belle’s body was laid out on the bed, loudly masturbating.

Even the Andrew of two days ago might have pushed the door open and hissed at her to stop, but I am not one to make the same mistake twice. If I’d gone in there, I doubt I would have been able to extract myself from the situation without being persuaded to get her off…or at the very least, letting her suck my cock while she finished the job herself.

Even with the police downstairs. Even with Belle (in my wife’s body) coming back any moment. Yeah. I simply didn’t trust myself—or my wife—any more. The only way to avoid getting into a dangerous situation was to avoid my daughter’s body.

At least while she was this worked up.

And so I made my way back to the kitchen, firmly planted my rear end in the chair once more, and sat, desperately hoping that Mary wasn’t so lust-drunk that she’d be loud enough for our visitors to hear.

It felt like an eternity before Belle (in my wife’s body) joined me. When she did, her worried expression made my heart sink.

“What is it?”

“Spike,” she replied, shocking me.

“The guy who…dumped Belle?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Yeah,” she nodded, biting her mother’s lip. It was a gesture my wife only did when she was trying to turn me on, but when Belle did it (in her own body, anyway) it was typically a sign of nervousness.

The signals were confusing (and the haze of lust I felt like we’d been living in for the past few days certainly didn’t help), but I gestured for her to continue.

“He was here last night. I…I went out to see him.”

My brow furrowed. Even if my daughter had used Mary’s body to fuck him, she…she wouldn’t just _tell_ me about it, would she?

“Why?” I asked, unable to hide my confusion. Fortunately, in this situation, my reaction made sense no matter what Belle thought I knew.

My wife’s eyes flicked around the room, eventually landing on me.

“…I bought some weed from him.”

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 43

I stared at her, agog.

“You _what_?”

“Don’t be mad,” she said warningly, in what could have been an uncanny impression of my wife…but was more likely an honest plea from my teenage daughter.

I forced a grin to my face.

“Why would I be mad?”

Mary’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, marijuana is a gateway drug. Super dangerous, right?”

I pretended not to notice the out-of-character choice of language coming from my wife’s lips (not to mention the sarcasm) and took a moment to gather my thoughts, trying to work out what had happened, and remember who was meant to know what…and what _I_ was supposed to know about who knew what. Oh what a tangled web we weave, and all that.

Mary and I had emphasized the danger of pot to Belle for years; doubly so, once we’d seen her starting to make some particularly poor life choices.

Not, I should be clear, that we were ever seriously concerned about what it would do to her. Sure, it’s not great for teenage brains, but neither is drinking, and when I had been my daughter’s age, I’d had more than a few glasses of wine (the only alcohol I’d been able to get my hands on).

My actions over the past two weeks weren’t the most compelling evidence, admittedly, but I really don’t think it rotted my brain or anything like that.

No, we were more worried that she’d fall in with a bunch of potheads, and not the honor students she would ideally befriend. Of course, that hadn’t gone exactly as planned—Belle had instead ended up lonely and isolated at school, started dating a drug dealer, and sent her life off the rails so rapidly that my wife had been forced to swap bodies with her to fix it.

So on one level, it made sense that Belle would think I’d be concerned if my wife were to get high. She had no way of knowing it was something we’d done together, more than a few times. Not so much since we’d had kids, of course, but when certain friends came to town, it wasn’t unusual for them to bring a little green for us to share.

In her mother’s body, Belle had easy access to money and a much lower risk of causing damage to a developing brain (something else that Mary and I had been very emphatic about in our “Just Say No” discussions with her). When she’d recognized Spike’s car outside, she’d probably known that he had some pot on hand. And so she’d…

A wave of relief crashed over my body.

Belle hadn’t used my wife’s body to have a threesome. I mean, yes, it was theoretically still possible…but for all her faults, my daughter wasn’t deceptive. As she stared at me, anxiety was visible in my wife’s eyes. I suppose it could have been fear that I’d see through her lie, but more likely it was just…guilt.

Guilt, for using her mother’s body to do drugs.

I wasn’t particularly proud of her for abusing her mother’s body like that, of course. But smoking a little dope was nothing compared to the torrid affair I thought she’d been carrying out last night.

Besides, I had lost count of how many times I’d cum in my daughter’s body while my wife had been inhabiting it. It wasn’t like I could exactly claim the moral high ground in this situation.

“I mean, yeah,” I finally responded, rearranging my facial features to convey the disappointment Belle no doubt thought I felt. “We always agreed that we’d stay away from pot. To set a good example for our daughter.”

I managed to keep a straight face at Belle’s reaction. In my defence, it wasn’t _entirely_ a lie—if she’d ever caught us with a joint, she would never have ever taken us seriously again. But the look of realization that dawned on my wife’s face…

Mary had been right. Despite all the trouble it had brought, this body-swap scheme really had giving Belle a much better idea of how much we did for her.

How much we loved her.

If that stuck—if, after they switched back, Belle understood that we didn’t exist purely to give her a bad time—maybe it would all be worth it.

Maybe.

“I remember,” Belle replied, trying to act as though she did. “But...no, you’re right. I just…I wanted to try it once, y’know?”

“Sure,” I smiled. “Let’s just make sure it’s only the once though, okay?”

“Thanks for understanding…Andrew.”

I reached out and took her hand in mine. She didn’t wince…she didn’t seem particularly thrilled by the gesture, but she didn’t pull it away in horror or anything like that.

“So what did you tell the police?”

“Not that I bought pot, of course. I just…I told them that our daughter had been involved with the guy, but that it was over now.”

“You really think it’s over?” I asked. Maybe the tint of hope in my voice was too obvious, because my daughter shot me a look. “I just, uh…well, you remember at the beach last weekend. Belle still seemed pretty into him.”

“It’s over,” my daughter said firmly, using my wife’s best matter-of-fact tone.

Again, I was hit by a surge of relief. That damn kid…at first, I’d been worried that he was dating my daughter. Then I’d had twenty-four hours of panic thinking he’d fucked my wife.

Now, maybe he’d be out of our lives forever.

A thought struck me.

“Where were you last night?” I asked. “I checked Find My Phone, and it looked like you’d left it at home.”

“No,” Belle replied, looking at me like I was an idiot. “I didn’t leave it at home. I _was_ at home. I bought some pot from Spike, then went down to the basement and smoked it.”

“Oh.”

She was right to look at me like that. Maybe my teenage wine years really had destroyed my brain. I’d barely slept, gotten myself so worked up wondering where my wife’s body was and why she didn’t have her phone on her…and she’d been just two storeys down the whole time, toking up.

“How was it?” I asked, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Not as good as I’d expected,” Belle said. “But y’know, I’m glad I tried it once.”

“Just once?”

“Yeah,” Belle nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

I smiled at her, and was hit by a strange pang of nostalgia when I saw my wife’s face smiling back at me.

My wife’s smile. For almost two weeks, I had barely seen it. When Mary had gone on that cruise, that was the longest we’d been apart…until now.

I mean, we weren’t really apart. But still, seeing a close resemblence to my wife’s smile on my wife’s face…it made me miss her.

_Three more days,_ I told myself. _Three more days, then everything is back to normal._

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 44

“Anyway,” my daughter said, heaving her mother’s shoulders as she sighed. “I should go let Spike know about the police.”

“What?” I said, my arm hairs standing on end. “Why?”

“I mean, I bought some pot off him, then narced. To the cops! It’s only fair that I let him know what I told them.”

My eyes narrowed. Had I been completely wrong about being completely wrong? Was this just another excuse to sneak off and have sex with a teenager again?

“How do you know where to find him?”

“He always hangs out at the 556 on a Thursday night,” Belle replied. Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d just said. “I, uh, read about it in…our daughter’s…diary.”

“Uh huh,” I said, trying to relax slightly. If the delivery of that last sentence was anything to go by, my daughter was _not_ a natural liar.

I swear, I did try. But I still couldn’t let my suspicion die completely.

“You’re not going to…do anything else?”

“Like what?” Belle replied, sounding genuinely nonplussed.

“I’m not sure,” I said, trying to diffuse the tension with a joke. “Buy heroin?”

“Gross.” My daughter stuck Mary’s tongue out. “He doesn’t sell that kind of stuff…and even if he did, I’d never go near it.”

And honestly, I believed her. Without hesitation.

Maybe my jealousy was clouding my judgment. Belle’s story checked out, after all. Her phone _had_ been inside the house for the rest of the night.

I hadn’t wanted to believe that my daughter would use her mother’s body for a threesome. So what was wrong with me? Now that I’d been given a perfectly reasonable alternative, I didn’t want to believe that either.

“Go,” I said, with a wave of my hand. “Tell Sprite I say hi.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that. I don’t think he remembers who you are.”

“Really makes me glad our daughter isn’t dating him,” I mused aloud. “Y’know. If he can’t even identify her father.”

Again, Mary’s smile gave me a small hit of nostalgia. I was missing a woman who was in the same house as me, but in pieces. Her mind was upstairs, her body was in front of me.

Belle leaned Mary’s body over and kissed me on the forehead, like I used to do to her when she was little.

“Me too,” she said, and—for the second time that night—I really believed her.

My daughter crossed the room, but right as she was about to leave, turned back to me.

“Oh, Andrew. I…”

“What?”

“I…I didn’t like the way the policemen looked at our daughter tonight.”

My eyes widened. Had…had she noticed the way I was looking at her as well?

Had Belle figured out that her father was a pervert?

My mouth fell open, and I realized that she was waiting for a response.

“…me neither,” I replied softly. “It’s not appropriate.”

This had been an ongoing debate with my daughter and I since…god, ever since her boobs had come in. “That’s not appropriate” was a sentence I’d had to say so many times, and it had always resulted in a long argument—arguments that often ended with Belle in tears, screaming about how much she hated me, that I didn’t _understand_.

“You know what?” Belle asked slowly, as if hearing the words for the first time. “It’s really not.”

“Do you want me to have a word with her?”

“No,” my daughter said, a thoughtful look on her face. “No…I’ll do it. I think it’ll be better coming from me.”

“Good luck,” I smiled, and Belle wandered out of the room, as if lost in her own thoughts.

As soon as she was out the door, I pumped the air in triumph. It was getting increasingly hard to be mad at my wife for what she’d done—yes, she’d caused me to cross lines that I never wanted to line, and I swear: the past two days had aged me more than a decade…

But seeing it happen from the outside had finally— _finally_ taught Belle that no, she couldn’t wear whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.

That sometimes, it wasn’t appropriate.

The sound of the ‘big car’ leaving the driveway snapped me out of my trance, and I realized that I was going to be alone in the house with my wife for…probably an hour, if not more.

Maybe I could go upstairs and thank her for helping get our daughter back. From the sounds I’d heard earlier through the door, I suspected my presence would be more than welcome.

I ascended the stairs with a spring in my step, then rapped smartly on my daughter’s bedroom door.

“Come in,” was the moaned response.

I couldn’t help but grin at what I saw when I opened the door—sure enough, Belle’s legs were spread, and her hands were clutching one of Mary’s bullet vibrators.

“Daddy’s here,” I rumbled playfully.

“Oh fuuuuck,” my daughter’s voice groaned. “Oh, Daddy, yes. Oh, did you see them?”

I paused, not sure what she was getting at.

“See who?”

“The police,” my wife groaned in reply. “Did you see the way they were—oh!—the way they were looking at meeee…”

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 45

My eyebrows shot up at the words my daughter’s lips were softly moaning.

“Oh, Daddy…” she repeated. “God. They thought I was so…so _hot_.”

I licked my lips nervously, not sure how to respond.

I mean, on one hand, my wife was right. The police…they _had_ stared at our daughter’s body like she was a piece of meat. I mean, these were the men who were supposed to be protecting our community. They were trained professionals, and one of them had been well over twice her age.

Not that I entirely blamed them, of course. Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of the local cops lusting after my daughter, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t been provoked. Mary had deliberately dressed our daughter to impress, and then paraded her body in front of them, trying to get a reaction. A very specific reaction. I’d thought it had been to teach Belle a lesson—and it had worked!

But now, as I looked at my daughter’s naked, flushed body, I was starting to wonder what her true motivation had been.

I could feel my cock starting to stiffen at the idea.

I tried to tell myself that it was just because of the erotic display in front of me—the sight of Belle’s aroused body, touching herself—but I couldn’t deny, there was something hot about the way she’d been drinking up the attention from the older men.

God, what had happened to me? Here I was, _wishing_ that the only reason I was turned on was because of my daughter’s body.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, Daddy. Please, fuck me…”

“Honey…” I weakly protested, but neither of us believed for a second that I was going to leave the room without burying my cock deep into my daughter’s soaking wet snatch.

“Do you think they would have fucked me?” she asked, as I stumbled towards her naked form on the bed, slightly dazed.

“Honey…” I repeated, but she wasn’t listening. My wife (in my daughter’s body) was in her own world, her eyes alight with lust.

“If there hadn’t been anyone else home. If I’d told them that I was scared, that I needed protection. Do you think I could have gotten them to follow me up here? Do you think I could have felt them inside me? Do you think I could have convinced two police officers to fuck our teenage daughter?”

“Mary…” I gasped. She’d unsheathed my cock, and was running both her hands up and down my erection as she continued to babble, sharing a fantasy that I think surprised us both.

“I loved the way they looked at me,” she continued, staring at my cock as hypnotized. “God, I loved it. It was so… _inappropriate_.”

She shuddered with pleasure as the word that I’d used so many times to describe Belle’s demeanour left her lips. It was like my wife was getting off on the perversity of turning everything we’d taught our daughter upsidedown.

And again…I don’t know if it was the feeling of my daughter’s soft hands on my very hard cock, or the filth spewing from her teenage lips, but despite having just cum a few hours earlier, I was as hard as I could ever remember being.

“Where’s Belle?” she asked, an unexpectedly responsible question (considering how lust-addled my wife seemed to be in that moment).

“She’s gone to warn Spruce,” I gasped. Immediately after asking the question, Mary had lowered our daughter’s mouth onto my cock, but she pulled back to ask a follow-up question.

“So we’re all alone?”

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded.

“Good,” Mary said, a huge grin spreading across Belle’s face, her eyes still resembling that of a mad woman’s. “Then we have enough time for you to fuck me.”

“Mary…”

I don’t even know why I bothered protesting. We both knew what was going to happen. We both knew as soon as I’d entered her room that night, I was going to cum inside her.

Again.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” she said with a soft groan. “I want to feel my Daddy’s cock inside me. I want to feel how hard it makes you when other men look at your baby girl…”

Yet again I was surprised by my own reaction. The look on the policemen’s faces should have appalled me. I should have called and registered a complaint. I should have spanked my daughter until Mary agreed to never do anything like that again.

Until Mary swore that she was mine. That she belonged to me, and only me. No matter what body she was in.

But instead, as Belle lay back and guided my cock towards her dripping entrance, it was impossible to deny—it had turned me on.

It had turned me on to see my daughter showing off her assets. It had turned me on to know that Belle was so hot. That Mary was so good at showing her off, she’d managed to attract some _completely_ inappropriate attention.

And, god help me, it had turned me on to know that even though they had wanted her, I was the one who got to have her.

“You’re mine,” I growled, as I slid the entire length of my erection inside my daughter’s wet, waiting pussy.

“Yes!” she cried out, her response long and loud. “Daddy, please…”

“You’re mine,” I repeated, pulling out and then in again, a single fluid motion. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Daddy.” My daughter’s words filled the room. “Daddy, please. Fuck your little girl. Fuck your little Belle-drop.”

The use of the nickname took me by surprise, but did nothing to slow me down.

“I can fuck you whenever I want,” I said forcefully.

“Any time, Daddy…” she moaned. “I belong to you.”

In response to her declaration, I moved my mouth onto hers, passionately kissing my daughter as I repeatedly drove my cock deep inside her soaking wet pussy.

I could recognize the impending signs of my daughter’s orgasm—something I had never, ever imagined would be true—and so I slowed down slightly, suddenly filled with an urge to show her who was in control.

“Please, Daddy…” she begged. “Please. Your little girl wants to cum. Your little girl wants to—oh!—cum. Pleeease…”

“Not until Daddy says so,” I grunted in response. “Not. Until. I. Do.”

Each word was punctuated with another firm thrust forward, and Belle’s eyes rolled back in her head at the controlled way I was fucking her. The haze of lust had overtaken my mind, and I had embraced my wife’s messed-up fantasy. Not that it was mere fantasy—I was, after all, fucking my daughter. I was pounding my hard cock into the little girl who I’d spent almost two decades raising.

A week ago, that fact would have been enough to cause my erection to immediately wilt. Now it was turning me on.

God, what was wrong with me?

“Fuck me, Daddy,” my wife gasped. “Fuck me fuck me _fuck me_. I want to feel you cum. I want to feel you cum inside me. I want you to cum inside your little girl. Inside your daughter. I want you to mark me as your property. I want you to show the world that I’m—oh!—all yours…”

My wife knows exactly what to say to turn me on, and at the sound of her moans, I felt my cock start to pulse. Belle’s eyes widened, and I knew Mary could feel my cock shooting its load inside our daughter’s bare pussy.

“Cum for me,” I ordered, and I could feel the body beneath mine shuddering with a long, powerful orgasm as she did.

We lay there for several minutes as we came down from our pair of powerful climaxes. Mary turned to me, a cheeky smile on our daughter’s face.

“Daddy likes seeing his girl show off?” she asked mischievously. In response, I just rolled my eyes. There was no right answer to that…especially since, in that moment, even _I_ didn’t even know how I felt about it.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 46

Mary—unsurprisingly—tried to tempt me into another round, but I didn’t know when Belle would be getting back, so I instead had a quick shower and went straight to bed. After the events of the day (and my recent slumber shortage) I fell asleep immediately, and it felt like moments later when I awoke to the sight of the sun streaming through my window, and the smell of bacon cooking downstairs; one of the few dishes my daughter can actually cook.

Sure enough, my wife’s body was flitting around the kitchen, and she smiled as I entered. For a moment, I wondered if they’d switched back early, but as soon as she clumsily started trying to transfer the eggs onto plates, I knew that I was witnessing my daughter’s attempt at making breakfast.

“This looks delicious,” I said, and look of pride on her face warmed my heart.

I was most of the way through my first cup of coffee when Belle’s body entered, and my mouth fell open at the sight of her.

This was my wife’s last day of school in our daughter’s body, and she’d clearly decided to go all-out. The last Friday of every month was a no-uniform day, and so Mary—no longer restrained by the school’s uniform policy—was wearing a miniskirt, a form-fitting top…and no bra.

I’m not saying that because I’m some kind of expert in women’s fashion. No, the lack of bra was very, very obvious.

And knowing my wife—or at least, her behavior over the past few weeks—I would have bet good money that she wasn’t wearing panties, either.

Tearing my eyes away from my daughter’s clearly-visible nipples, I turned to see the expression on my wife’s face.

To my great relief, she looked appalled.

In case it isn’t obvious by now, I had very mixed feelings about Mary’s methods. On one hand, what she’d done has resulted in me doing, saying, and _thinking_ things that I was afraid would forever damage my psyche. I’d fucked my teenage daughter’s body while she begged for her ‘daddy’s cock’. I’d grown hard at the sight of her showing off to two police officers. I’d fucked her face until tears—and mascara—ran down her face.

After what we’d done, I knew I would never be able to look at my daughter the same way again.

But before my wife’s interference, Belle had been spiraling. We’d tried everything, and—unbelievably— _this_ had worked.

Even a week in, my daughter had still been supportive and encouraging of her body being put on display. But over the past few days, we’d witnessed a complete reversal in attitude. She was starting to understand that we weren’t strict to be cruel. She was seeing how much we sacrificed to keep her safe.

She now believed what our words had never been able to convince her of: that we loved her, and that everything we did was for her benefit.

And, perhaps most shockingly of all, she no longer saw her body being shown off as desirable. Watching the two policemen ogle her teenage body had been a real wakeup call for our daughter.

“And what do you think _you’re_ wearing?” Belle said coldly. She was imitating her mother’s tone so perfectly, it was a real effort not to grin.

“It’s casual Friday,” my wife replied, doing an equally good impersonation of our daughter. “Any bacon left?”

Holding Mary’s hand up, Belle continued. “You think I’m going to let you wear that to school?”

“Uh, yeah?”

I instinctively wanted to jump in and support my wife (well, my daughter in my wife’s body) but I realized that this was a battle that needed to play out without my involvement.

“Belle, you…you can’t wear that.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t appropriate.”

“God,” my wife responded, rolling our daughter’s eyes. “Mom, you just don’t _get it_.”

This was a line that Belle had used a great many times over the years, and I think she recognized that. There was a pause, and her response was thoughtful.

“I know it seems that way,” she said slowly. “But…I understand better than you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Belle nodded, moving her mother’s hand to her waist. “I do. The attention feels nice. It makes you feel like people are noticing you, like you’re…not alone.”

She trailed off, staring into space, and my wife used Belle’s eyes to shoot me a quick glance.

“Uh huh,” she responded.

“But there are better ways of getting that attention,” my daughter continued, after a brief pause.

“Like what?”

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if you go into school dressed like that, you’re not going to find them.”

I wanted to applaud, but I continued staying out of it. After that great speech, I hoped Mary would concede the point, and dress into something more appropriate.

But, as she had so many times over the last few weeks, my wife surprised me.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “Just let me dress how I want, okay? I’m going to be out of here soon enough, and then you won’t be able to control me any more.”

Again, this was a point that our daughter had frequently used—I think it was part of the reason Mary had taken such extreme actions. We had to do what we could before unleashing Belle onto the world.

For the world’s sake as much as hers.

I turned back to my wife’s body. Again, I could see that the words had left an impact—much like when she’d heard “cunt” being screamed from her own mouth, it was obvious that our daughter was completely recontextualizing her past actions.

I’d hoped that she would react with a mature, well-thought out argument. Something that even Mary, playing the rebellious teen, wouldn’t be able to rebut.

Hell, maybe this would so effectively change Belle’s mind, we wouldn’t have to play out the last few days. If all went well, maybe my wife and daughter could switch back _tonight_ , and the weirdness of the past two weeks could end early.

As Belle opened my wife’s mouth, however, my hopes were dashed.

“Fine!” she hissed, my heart sinking. I had seen my daughter lose her temper more than enough times to recognize the signs. “If you’re going to be like that, you won’t go to school at all. You’re going to stay home all day, with your father.”

My daughter’s eyes lit up at the idea. I don’t know if Belle really thought that would be an effective punishment—being forced to skip school isn’t exactly going to strike fear into the heart of any teenager, y’know?—but I was pretty sure my wife would have paid good money to spend an entire day alone with me in our daughter’s body.

“Fine!” my wife responded, rolling Belle’s eyes. “Whatever!”

“No!” I said quickly, giving up on my attempts to be Switzerland in the matter. “No, we can’t reward bad behavior like that. Belle, go upstairs and change.”

“But Daddy…” my wife pleaded, and I hoped that our daughter wouldn’t find anything amiss in her choice of words.

“No buts,” I replied firmly. I had days of work to catch up on, and I knew that if my daughter’s body was home all day, I had almost no chance of being productive.

An image flashed through my head—Belle, naked, on her knees at my desk, worshipping my cock as I worked—but I quickly dismissed it.

I had to stay strong.

“Now,” I insisted, and—again, in a manner that I hoped the real Belle wouldn’t find suspicious—our daughter’s body slumped, before making her way upstairs.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 47

As our daughter’s body stomped upstairs, Belle turned to me, a quizzical look on my wife’s face.

My heart skipped a beat—Mary had done a pretty god job of imitating our daughter’s attitude so far, but I felt obeying my order so quickly had been a pretty major slip.

“Do you think she’s going to be okay?” she asked, and I tried to mask my relief.

She wasn’t suspicious. She was concerned.

“All we can do is try,” I said, and she nodded in response.

There was a brief pause, and I decided to take the opportunity—one of the last I’d have for a long while—to probe a little further.

“I wish I knew how to reach her,” I said softly. Again, my wife’s head nodded. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Oh!” she said, surprised and then thoughtful. “I mean…”

“What?”

“I think,” Belle said reflectively, “she might have low self-esteem.”

“Uh huh,” I encouraged. “That would explain why she was seeing that Splat kid for so long.”

“Spike,” she gently corrected, lost in her own thoughts.

Belle’s low self-esteem was obvious to everyone except her…so, of course, it made sense that she’d only seen it from the outside.

I stayed silent in the hope that additional insight was coming, but that was the moment Mary chose to stomp back downstairs. She was wearing a hilariously inappropriate outfit for the weather—a thick sweater and sweatpants.

“Better?” she snarled. I managed to hide my grin, while Belle raised one of her mother’s eyebrows in response.

“If you’re happy…” she said, and Mary just rolled our daughter’s eyes in response.

The two girls left, and my workday passed mostly uneventfully. By the time I heard the front door open, I’d mostly caught up on the work that I’d missed—my growling stomach reminding me that I’d accidentally worked through lunch to do so.

“Daddy?”

I sighed. The tone of my daughter’s voice told me exactly what kind of a mood Mary was in, and it wasn’t one that would allow me to have a meal.

“In here,” I called out in response. There was no doubt in my mind that within ten minutes, I’d be balls-deep in my daughter…and rather than feel horrified by the idea, I was mostly annoyed that it meant I wouldn’t have time to grab a snack.

So very much can change in a week.

I almost did a double take when Belle’s body entered my study. Despite the fact that I’d seen her leave in a ridiculous winter outfit, she was standing in front of me in the exact outfit that her daughter (in Mary’s body) had vetoed that morning.

“Uh….”

“Do you like it?” she grinned, doing a spin. As she did, the miniskirt lifted, confirming what I’d suspected that morning—my daughter was _not_ wearing panties.

“Uh…” I said again in response. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and all my blood had immediately rushed to my dick at the sight of my daughter’s outfit, so my brain was not firing on all cylinders.

“I thought you would,” she said, that hungry look returning to her eyes.

“Weren’t you wearing…—“

“Uh huh,” she beamed. “But underneath I was wearing this.”

I moved one hand to my temple.

“Mary…”

“Call me Belle,” she moaned. “Call me your little girl.”

“Mary,” I repeated insistently. “You can’t…dressing like that is going to ruin our daughter’s reputation. You’re meant to be helping her, not destroying her life.”

My wife sighed.

“Andrew,” she said, losing the little girl voice. “I’m not destroying her life, for one. Half the kids in her school dress like this on casual Friday.”

I raised my eyebrows in response, suddenly very glad that I didn’t work in a school.

Before the week had started, I’d never felt like a dirty old man.

“Secondly, it’s not like it’s out of character. We’ve been having these fights about appropriate dress for years now, remember?”

“Well, yes,” I admitted. “But you…surely…”

“And thirdly,” she continued, ignoring my stammering response. “I knew this was my last chance.”

“Last chance to what?” I asked, although I was fairly sure I knew the answer.

“The last chance to show our daughter off,” she purred, moving towards me as I did. “The last chance to drive you wild, knowing that everyone at school—everyone who saw me—would want me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“I spent the entire day putting our daughter’s body on display,” she said, sinking to her knees in front of my chair. “Everyone in every room I entered…their eyes were on me. Every time I raised my hand, I reduced the teacher to a stammering mess.”

“Mary…” I groaned, as she fished my cock out of my pants. It was, unsurprisingly, hard as a rod. I had no idea if she was telling the truth or just trying to work me up, but...well, either way, it was working.

“Call me Belle,” she softly groaned. “Call me your little girl.”

“Belle…”

“I’ve spent the last six and a half hours dripping wet,” she said, biting her lip provocatively. “I’ve spent my day in a haze, imagining _this_ …”

She squeezed my cock as she spoke, and I left out a soft gasp as she did.

“I spent the entire day making every man want me. Every teacher, every student. All of them, staring at me lustfully, wanting to lift up this skirt and fuck me. I bet all of them have gone home to beat off, thinking about this body. Everyone who saw me today is probably jerking off, imagining our daughter.”

“No…” I protested. She was probably right, but I didn’t want to think about it.

Did I?

“But only one man gets me,” she said in a low hiss. “Only one man gets to fuck his little girl.”

“Belle…”

“Daddy,” she moaned in response. “Fuck me. Do what every other man only wishes he got to do. Fuck your little Belle-drop.

“Fuck our daughter. Please…”


	Chapter 48

It only took a few moments for me to flip my daughter’s body over and bend her over the couch in my office. Long, loud gasps were emerging from my daughter’s mouth as I slowly drove my cock inside her sopping wet pussy.

Maybe I should have been stronger. But there were only a few days left, and…well, her words had served their purpose.

She pushed back against every thrust, the walls of her slick cunt squeezing my cock repeatedly. My wife in my daughter’s body was the perfect fuck. I couldn’t deny it—it combined decades of experience and a busty, youthful body.

Reaching down, I used my middle finger to firmly rub my daughter’s hard clit. I knew the exact motions that her mother liked, and was delighted to discover that my guess was correct—despite being in a different body, the well-practiced motions had a similar effect.

Before long, my wife was gasping in orgasm; I could feel wave after wave of pleasure wracking our daughter’s perfect form.

“Fuck my ass!” she gasped, and my eyes widened.

“What?”

“Please, Andrew,” she begged. “I want to feel you in Belle’s ass. I want you to fuck our daughter’s ass.”

My wife and I had partaken in anal sex before, but not regularly. She didn’t hate it, but it was definitely something she did more for me than for herself. It normally only happened on special occasions—when I’d first started working from home, or for my fortieth birthday.

Like I said, it was something she did mostly for my benefit…but Mary so enjoyed my pleasure, so she was often the one to suggest it.

But in all our years of marriage, she’d never brought it up like this. It had always been more of a “Hey, would you like a treat?” kind of approach; not a frantic, panting suggestion like it was now.

And she’d never, ever begged me for it before.

“I want it so bad,” she continued, moving our daughter’s body up and down my cock all the while. “Before I switch back, I…I want to know that you’ve taken our daughter’s ass.”

I hesitated, not sure how to respond. It was impossible to deny that the idea held some appeal—more than once, while fucking my wife in my daughter’s body, the idea of taking her other hole had flashed through my mind. But only briefly.

I couldn’t do that to her. I _couldn’t_.

Right?

“Why?” I said, my voice raspy.

“I want to celebrate,” she gasped.

“Celebrate?”

“Mm-hmm. After today, I’ll never, ever, _ever_ have to go back to high school.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She’d told me once that the day she finished high school was one of the best days of her life.

My wife was a lucky woman. She’d gotten to have one of the best days of her life twice.

“Please,” she begged again, craning her neck so she could face me. Her eyes were bloodshot with want—if Belle had come home at that moment, even if we’d managed to clean up, I had no doubt that she’d be suspicious of the look on her face.

“That’s not a great reason” I said, a smile on my face, and Belle’s eyes rolled back with pleasure.

“And because...it’s so hot,” she groaned, turning back to face the wall. As we spoke, my cock was still sliding in and out of my daughter’s wet pussy. “The idea of…oh!”

“Of what?” I asked insistently.

“You’re the first man to fuck her,” she said, practically vibrating with pleasure as she spoke. “You’re the first man to take her mouth—her kitty. Don’t you want to be the first man to—oh, _fuck_ —the first cock in her ass?”

“Mary…” I gasped.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged, the little girl voice back. “I want you to be the first man in all three of my holes. I want you to…oh, god…own me. Completely…”

Twenty years of marriage, more than twenty years of sex has given my wife a pretty incredible understanding of my body. But it still took me by surprise when she suddenly pulled off, spun around, and firmly grasped the base of my cock…expertly preventing my orgasm.

“Mary!!”

You know that feeling when you really need to pee, and you run into the house, only to find that the bathroom is occupied?

You’re ready to go, in your head you’ve basically started peeing already, and then all of a sudden you’re not able to.

This felt like that, but a hundred times worse.

Cockblocked by my own wife. By my own daughter’s hand.

“I’m serious,” she moaned. Her move had done the job—my impending orgasm had subsided, and with a saucy grin, she started stroking me, moving Belle’s soft hand up and down my cock. “I want you to fuck my ass. Belle’s ass. I want to feel you in our daughter’s ass.”

“I can’t,” I said, trying to ignore how much the perverse idea appealed to me. “Honey…you know I can’t.”

I wasn’t expecting the peal of laughter that emerged from my daughter’s lips.

“Seriously?” my wife said. “That’s where you draw the line?”

“I mean…” I stammeringly replied.

“Over the last few days, you’ve cum inside our daughter more times than I can count. You’ve choked Belle with your cock, you’ve fucked her, you’ve gone down on her, and you’ve even photographed it. But anal is going too far?”

I didn’t know what to say. When she put it like that, my protestations did sound pretty stupid.

Also, it was difficult to think on an empty stomach, while a naked teenager stroked my cock.

“…we’d need lube,” I finally said, unable to think of a single defense that even _I_ would take seriously.

Belle’s eyes lit up triumphantly.

“I’ll be right back,” she said with a wink.

Alone in my study, I had a moment to think. Part of me was tempted to jerk off—maybe I’d be able to come up with some more convincing arguments after an orgasm to clear my head.

But I didn’t.

Perhaps because I knew that as always, my wife would win. She wanted me to fuck our daughter’s ass, so no matter what I did, by the end of the day…my cock would be buried deep inside Belle’s rear passage.

But if I’m being honest, I think it was because I wanted it just as much as she did.

She was right—why draw the line there? I’d already done so much, so many unthinkable things to our daughter’s body.

What was one more hole?

My cock thickened at the thought. It was wrong. Perverse. Maybe even…evil.

But there was something darkly appealing at the knowledge that I would have been the first man to take each of my daughter’s virginities.

For the rest of her life, I would be the first man who entered each of her passages. I would be the first man who’d cum inside her mouth. Her pussy.

Her ass.

“God help me,” I said, wrapping a hand around my rock-hard cock.

By the time my wife returned, I had removed the rest of my clothes.

“I was worried you’d have talked yourself out of it,” she said, smiling at the sight of my naked body.

“Get over here,” I growled, and her eyes widened.

“Yes, Daddy,” she replied immediately, handing me the bottle of lube and obediently getting on all fours on the couch.

Like I said, anal sex with my wife isn’t a regular occurrence. And so in a sense, taking my daughter’s ass for the first time wasn’t dissimilar to the rare occasions when I fuck Mary’s rear. Once I was lubed up, I pushed forward slowly… _slowly_ …treasuring the resistance.

But while the physical sensation was almost identical, everything else about the experience was completely unique.

“Oh, _Daddy_ ,” my daughter’s voice moaned loudly, as she moved one hand between her legs. “Oh, Daddy, yes _please_ …”

When I’m taking my wife’s behind, she doesn’t hate it, but she doesn’t exactly get off from the sensation. It’s more about providing me with an experience that I enjoy.

Maybe Belle is just wired differently, or maybe it was just the complete perversity of what we were doing, but by the time my pubic hair was pressed against my daughter’s firm, perfect ass, she’d already cum at least once.

I say ‘at least’—the further I pushed my cock into Belle’s anal passage, the less coherent my wife had become. By the time I was completely inside, her words had been replaced with a jumble of half-sounds, mixed with pants and gasps of pure ecstacy.

“Da—… _yesss_ …mmm…oh!“

My daughter’s body was trembling with pleasure, and I gave her a moment to adjust. While my wife had experienced this several times, I knew that it was a brand new sensation for the body she was currently inhabiting, and Belle’s ass was much, much tighter than my wife’s.

Once I felt her starting to relax, I slowly pulled halfway out, then thrust inside again.

“Yesss…”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked softly, already knowing the answer. “Do you want Daddy to fuck your ass?”

“Please, Daddy,” she begged. “Please…fuck your daughter’s ass. Pound your daughter’s virgin asshole with your big, hard cock.”

A smile spread across my face.

“Okay, Belle-drop,” I replied simply, and did as she requested.

I hoped Mary had remembered to turn the burglar alarm on when she’d gotten home today, because her squeals of pleasure were so loud, there was no possible way we’d have heard my wife’s body returning. Not that I wasn’t doing my part—grunting every time I thrust inside her, and letting out a low moan each time I pulled back. I was fucking my daughter’s ass so hard, she had both hands on the couch for stability.

“I’m going to cum inside you, Belle,” I warned. “I’m going to cum inside my little girl’s ass…”

“Do it,” she said her fists gripping the couch. “I want my Daddy’s cum inside me. I want to…oh! Ah! I wan… _I wan_ …”

Her words once more turned to gibberish, and I could tell that she was cumming again, despite neither of us going anywhere near her clit.

The knowledge that Belle was able to cum purely from the sensation of my cock deep in her ass was enough to push me over the edge, and I bellowed loudly as my cock throbbed, shooting my seed deep into my teenage daughter’s rectum.

We both stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, and I realized that had been the most intense sexual experience of my life, second to none.

“I wanna lick you clean, Daddy,” Mary said, her little-girl voice masked slightly by how raggedly she was breathing.

“You never go ass-to-mouth,” I quoted with a grin. Clerks II had been the first movie we’d gone to see together after Ben was born, and we still referenced it often.

A loud shudder emerged from my daughter’s mouth as she slowly pulled my cock out of her ass, before dropping to her knees in front of me.

“Sometimes,” she said, looking up at me with our daughter’s big blue eyes, “in the heat of the moment...”

I grinned, as she leaned forward, her tongue outstretched.

“…it’s forgivable to go ass to mouth.”

“Heh,” I said, a shiver passing through my body as Belle’s tongue began cleaning the cock which had just been deep inside her. “I knew it.”

* * *

The completed version of Mad Monday is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 49

Despite how ferociously I’d just fucked my daughter’s asshole, despite the fact that I’d just cum more intensely than I could ever remember cumming, the sight of Belle’s small pink tongue licking my cock clean was enough to get me hard again.

What we were doing was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced, but also the stupidest. The risks were through the roof—if Belle caught us, the results would be catastrophic.

What we were doing was the ultimate betrayal. Her own mother, using her body for sex. With her father!

And me, knowingly using Belle’s body for my pleasure. For my orgasm.

It was the worst thing I’d ever done…perhaps that was _why_ it was so hot.

Of course, if anyone else caught us, the stakes were even higher. I’d be permanently shunned by society, probably go to prison. And I’m sure you know; the things they do in prison to people who are caught doing what I was doing to my own daughter’s body…

The risks were impossibly high.

But I still couldn’t say no when my daughter’s mouth enticingly grinned up at me in response to my thickening cock, and it wasn’t long before I was cumming down her throat.

After that, I insisted that we clean up—partially because it felt like it would be a week before I was able to get another erection, but mostly because I knew my wife’s body would be coming home soon.

What we were doing was already so incredibly dangerous; there was no need to unnecessarily add to it.

The rest of our evening was a relaxed one, for the most part. By the time Belle got home, my wife had changed our daughter into a much less revealing outfit. She’d invited me to come shower with her (something we did often in normal circumstances, but hadn’t yet partaken in since the body swap)—but I’d declined. My cock was completely exhausted, but I suspected Mary would still have found some way to get me hard and inside her for the third time that day.

We ate together again that night—it was my turn to cook, and I’d rustled up what Mary called “man food”. Grilled burger patties on bread, add your own whatever’s-in-the-fridge.

“Are you looking forward to Ben coming home?” I asked Belle (in my wife’s body). Over the past two weeks, she’d grown pretty good at reacting as her mother would have, but she instinctively rolled her eyes at the question.

I exchanged an amused glance with Mary (in my daughter’s body).

“I can’t believe how long Space Camp goes,” she said, in a feeble attempt to justify her eye-roll. “In the middle of the semester. It’s ridiculous!”

“Code Camp,” I gently corrected. “Space Camp is in the summer.”

“Right,” she said with a nod. “Code Camp.”

“It’ll be nice to have him back,” I said. “I don’t know when we fell out of the habit of eating as a family, but it’s been great to spend time together.”

“It really has,” Belle replied thoughtfully, narrowing my wife’s eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d missed it.”

Mary and I threw each other another glance—this one not of amusement, but of satisfaction.

It was working. We were getting our daughter back.

For that, I would have paid any price.

“I want another burger,” my wife said, jumping up, perfectly aping our daughter’s habit of dodging conversations as soon as they got sappy. “Anyone else want something?”

“I’m good,” Belle replied. “Thanks so much for…”

As my daughter’s body walked to the grill, my wife’s voice trailed off. My guard was immediately up, and when I noticed where Belle’s attention had been drawn, I turned around to see what she was looking at.

Oh, shit.

When my wife had begged me to fuck our daughter’s ass, to pound her hard, to not hold back…I’d obliged.

It had been a little reckless, but we’d used plenty of lube, and while I (and my wife) have always been very satisfied with the size of my cock, I’m not porn-star huge. Definitely not large enough to be dangerous.

Besides which, it was impossible to deny…Belle had a body that was built to take cock.

So while we’d managed to avoid any damage, the first time _anyone_ takes something in their ass, it’s going to cause—at the very least—a little discomfort.

I hadn’t noticed until my attention had been drawn to it, but sure enough…my daughter’s gait was more than a little off. She was walking like…well, like someone who had been given their very first ass-pounding earlier that day.

Shit.

“So much for the world’s best meal?” I replied lightly, trying to distract my daughter.

“Hmm?”

“You were saying…”

“Oh, yes,” she replied, turning her attention back to me. I scanned her face—she looked confused, but not suspicious. When I had been her age, I’d heard (and probably made, if I’m being honest) plenty of jokes about anyone with even the smallest limp having taken something up their rear…but perhaps teenagers had matured since then.

Also, maybe pigs had begun to fly.

The conversation continued. When Mary brought Belle’s body back to the table, I didn’t see a reaction on my wife’s face—I’d deliberately brought up a topic that both the women in my life shared the same opinion on (who played a better Hannibal—Hopkins or Mikkelsen) and argued more ferociously in favor of Hopkins than I normally would, to distract her.

I spent the rest of the meal on my feet, to prevent Mary from having to rise again, and even offered Belle the chance to pick the movie we were going to watch tonight, just to get my wife’s body out of the room as quickly as possible.

“You’re walking funny,” I hissed, as soon as we were alone. My daughter’s eyes lit up.

“That’s so hot,” she purred.

“I think Belle noticed,” I replied, ignoring the way my cock twitched at her words. “Just…be careful, okay?”

“Okay Daddy,” she said, looking up at me innocently. “Whatever you say.”


	Chapter 50

“Welcome home,” I said loudly and proudly.

I was met with a half-grin, followed by an eye-roll.

My son was two and a half years younger than his sister. He was a good kid…although at that age, Belle had been too.

Ben was still working himself out (as most people are at that age). I’d spent most of the drive asking him about the Camp he’d just spent a week at, and in response he’d given me a mix of enthusiasm, sarcasm, and what seemed like total non-sequiturs.

I’m sure “having his mod featured on Curse Forge” as a camp highlight made sense to someone, but it sure as hell didn’t mean anything to me.

The previous night, we’d watched a film (Knives Out, probably the best murder mystery I’d seen in years) before turning in early. I’d fully expected my daughter’s body to slip through my bedroom door for a late-night visit, but…well, my wife never fails to surprise me, and that night’s surprise was that she _didn’t_ come visit me.

In what was again an unexpected turn of events, I’d woken up by myself. I’d breakfasted alone, before making the drive out to pick up my son.

When we arrived home, the two body-switched women were in the living room, watching Mean Girls for the hundredth time. And, for the fiftieth time, I wondered how much of herself Belle recognized in the main character.

Ben waved an awkward hello—at that age, pretty every movement he made was awkward—and in what must have been a difficult moment for her, my wife rolled Belle’s eyes and grunted a hello.

My daughter’s immediate reaction was again disdain, but fortunately (for Ben’s sake, if nothing else) she managed to catch herself almost immediately, and walked over to give her brother a warm hug.

“Mo-om,” he grimaced, squirming to get out of the hug. “God, I was barely gone for a week.”

“I missed you,” she said simply, and I smiled at the interaction. I’m not the most observant of men, but it felt like a good sign that I couldn’t detect even a hint of insincerity in her voice.

“What does everyone want to do for Family Day?”

I was met with the simultaneous rolling of both my son and daughter’s eyes, but—impressing me once more—Belle (in her mother’s body) managed to keep any distaste for my question hidden.

“Board games?” she asked tentatively, and I clapped my hands at the suggestion.

“Yes! There are four of us—we can play _Witness_!”

Witness was one of the more unusual board games in our collection. It was a cooperative game, which had made it perfect for Family Days in the past—everyone working together to win as a team. It played like a game of Telephone; everyone was given partial information, and had to whisper what they learned to the player to their left.

We’d bought it when it was first released, and had a great time playing through the scenario booklet. There were sixty-four cases; we’d gotten into the thirties (they escalated in difficulty as you went) before Belle had decided she was too cool for Family Day. The game required exactly four players, so for several years now it had been stuck on the shelf.

My excitement was genuine as I went and fetched the game box. When I returned, everyone was sitting around the table—Ben and I facing each other, Mary (in Belle’s body) on my left, and Belle (in Mary’s body) on my right.

I gave a quick recap of the rules, and when we launched into the game, it was exactly as much fun as I’d remembered. The first round required us to whisper clockwise, and when we added up the scores I was elated to see that we’d passed the mission with flying colors.

Everyone agreed with my suggestion to play another round or two. My wife wasn’t really a board gamer, but—just like anal sex, now that I think about it—got a lot of pleasure out of how much I enjoyed it, and was always happy to humor me.

I think the kids really did enjoy the gaming experience as much as I did—when they were younger, I’d seen them pull many a game off the shelf to play against each other.

The next round required us to whisper hints to our right, and after what I thought was quite a good verbal description of a quite complex map to my daughter (in my daughter’s body), I turned to listen to what clues my wife (in my daughter’s body) was going to share with me.

“Okay,” she began. “Can you hear me?”

I nodded. The rules forbade asking any clarifying questions—all I could do was listen and nod.

“I want to feel you inside me again,” she purred. “God, Daddy. All day, I’ve been thinking about your hard cock in my ass. I’ve been so sore. You made your little girl’s ass so sore with your big, hard cock…”

“Belle…” I said warningly, and my son’s head snapped around.

“Hey!” he said. “No talking!”

I grimaced, and nodded.

My frustration was twofold; firstly, what Mary was doing was so blatantly stupid. Okay, so she was whispering…and my son and daughter were probably too focused on their own clues to even try to hear what she was saying. Plus, Ben—as demonstrated by his interjection—was a stickler for the rules, and wouldn’t have even considered _trying_ to overhear her whisperings.

But just as much as that…I wanted to play the game. There would be time to fool around later. We only had limited time to crack the case of the missing parakeet, and I didn’t appreciate my wife’s attempts to derail our efforts.

“I want to do it again,” she continued, and I rolled my eyes. “I want you to stick your cock inside your daughter’s sore ass. I want you to take me, Daddy, use me as your own personal little fucktoy. I want you to cum inside me, again and again, until your Belle-drop is nothing but a…”

“Belle!” I yelped. As Mary had been talking, I hadn’t noticed my daughter’s hand moving under the table. With startling accuracy, she’d planted it straight onto my cock.

“Dad!” Ben said again, and my wife’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“God,” Mary said, standing our daughter’s body up and clenching her fists. “You’re so _lame_!”

With that, she stormed out of the room, leaving me with a shocked expression on my face, and the rest of my family staring at me, awaiting an explanation.

* * *

The completed version of Mad Monday is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 51

“Uh…”

“What _happened_?” Ben said, and my wife’s forehead crinkled as she stared at me.

I sighed, and looked down at the hint booklet in front of me, as if the diagram showing which colored parakeet had been flying over the dam would help me get out of this one.

“Well,” I started, then paused dramatically.

I desperately needed to stall for time and come up with some kind of explanation…while trying to look like I wasn’t desperately stalling for time so I could come up with some kind of explanation. “You see…”

“I think I know what it is,” my daughter said, looking at me earnestly through Mary’s eyes, and my heart skipped a beat.

Fuck.

Belle had always been good at these deduction games—if we ever failed a mission, it was likely due to Ben’s age/inexperience or my wife’s dispassion—not my daughter’s lack of acuity.

Had she figured it out? Had that interaction been the last clue she’d needed to crack the whole case?

Had she worked out that just as she was in her mother’s body…her mother was in her’s?

“What is it?” Ben asked, looking between what he thought was his parents.

“Your sister has…”

Belle trailed off, biting her lip as she thought. The silence did nothing to quell my anxiety; my mind began spinning out, imagining the myriad of ways she could finish that sentence. “Switched bodies with me.” “Been the victim of her parents’ sexual depravity.”

“Spent the last ten days with various parts of her body wrapped around your father’s cock.”

“What??” Ben pressed.

“…she’s going through some stuff,” Belle concluded, and when her brother clearly wasn’t satisfied with that explanation, added a follow-up. “Woman stuff.”

“Ew,” Ben replied simply, before looking down at the booklet in his hands. “Ugh, why does she have to ruin everything? I was having such a good time—we were totally going to get that!”

“Yeah,” I nodded, my eyes not leaving my wife’s face for a moment. “We totally were.”

“Let’s play Pandemic instead,” Belle suggested, and Ben’s face lit up. “Can you go get it?”

“On my way,” my son replied, and zipped out of the room to grab the cooperative game we’d probably played the most as a family.

“What’d she say?” my daughter asked, as soon as we were alone.

Fortunately, I’d had enough time to come up with an explanation. A flimsy one, but one that I hoped would be at least vaguely believable.

“She swore at me again,” I said.

“The C-word?”

“No, nothing that bad. She flubbed a clue and dropped a few f-bombs. I don’t think she even realized she was doing it.”

My wife’s head nodded. “Not appropriate,” she said quietly, and—to my horror—my cock twitched as I remembered the last time I’d heard those words.

Shudderingly leaving my daughter’s mouth as I’d fucked her to orgasm the previous day.

“What’re we going to do?” I said, and my wife’s eyes flicked down to the game, set up on the table.

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I was really enjoying that.”

In an instant, all my annoyance at my wife drained away. Yes, Mary had ruined the game, and yes—she’d left me to come up with an explanation without warning.

But if it had been deliberate—and it wasn’t hard to imagine my wife cunningly putting a scheme like this together—then it had worked. Belle had just witnessed, firsthand, the consequences of her refusal to be a part of Family Day. She’d now experienced the effects of her own actions.

It was brilliant. I couldn’t even be annoyed that I was annoyed—being annoyed was the point, after all.

Ben bounded back into the room, the board game box in his hands, and for the next few hours the three of us attempted to save the world from a megavirus. Sometimes we succeeded, sometimes we failed, but working together felt great, each and every time. Who knew a global health disaster could be so much fun?

When I suggested pizza for dinner, Belle offered to take her mother’s body and get it, and Ben volunteered to go with her.

To my delight, I didn’t even detect a glimpse of reluctance in my daughter’s reaction. For the last few years, she’d considered her brother to be nothing but a pest—“Ape Face”, she’d nicknamed him.

But they’d seemed to genuinely enjoy spending the day together. The sight of my teenage daughter actually wanting to spend time with her brother was something I never thought I’d witness again in my life.

The moment the big car left the driveway, my wife came downstairs. She must have seen both our kids leaving, because she was wearing the most lacivious smile I’d ever seen.

And nothing else.

“Mary…” I groaned. “What are you doing?”

“How long do we have?” she asked breathily, and I rolled my eyes.

“Twenty minutes?” I guessed. “Maybe twenty-five?”

“They’re going to Boris’s?”

“Uh huh.”

“Perfect,” she replied, sinking to her knees. “Just enough time for you to take my ass again.”


	Chapter 52

“Mary…”

“Please, Daddy,” she said, gently pushing me onto the couch, before undoing my fly and taking my cock into my daughter’s hands. “Please.”

“You really don’t want that,” I sighed, as Belle’s mouth closed over my cock, her talented tongue swirling around my head. “Seriously.”

She didn’t say anything in response, just lightly flicked the tip of her tongue against my frenulum, causing a shiver of pleasure to run through my body.

“You’re too sore,” I continued, reaching down to play with my daughter’s bare nipples. “It won’t be a good time.”

“That’s what makes it so hot,” she said, pulling my cock out of her mouth, two strands of drool connecting her lips to the head of my erection. “Oh, god, Daddy…”

I hadn’t even noticed one of her hands reaching between her legs. The smell of my daughter’s arousal filled the room, and I could see her juices glistening.

“I want you to hurt me,” she whimpered in pleasure. “I want you to use me. Use your daughter’s ass to get off, with no regard to how it makes her feel. Please, Daddy… _please_ …”

My eyes widened at the filth spilling from my daughter’s mouth. She’d said some pretty dirty stuff over the last few days, but I’d thought the photo of Belle choking on my cock would be the peak.

Every time I think my wife can’t surprise me more, she manages it.

“Mary…” I said, not even trying to hide my shock. “I…we…”

“I know you want it too,” she said, leaning forward and resting her cheek against my cock. The sight in front of me was one I knew I’d never forget—my daughter’s innocent face, my hard cock, a string of saliva leaving the right-hand corner of Belle’s mouth.

“We can’t,” I said firmly. “I’m not saying I don’t want to, but…you’re switching back tomorrow night. It’s thirty hours away.”

I hadn’t actually done the math before that moment. It was a strange thought—in just over a day, it would be over. My wife would be back in my wife’s body, my daughter would be back in my daughter’s.

Everything would be back to normal.

Except I knew that wasn’t true. “Normal” was long gone. The first time Belle’s perfect body had entered my mind when I came, “normal” had withered on the vine and died.

My daughter’s body was kneeling in front of me, stark naked, begging me to take her bruised ass, to hurt her.

And I wasn’t appalled. I wasn’t even annoyed. And I was more than ‘considering’ it—the only reason I wasn’t doing it was because I didn’t want my daughter to wake up in her own body and wonder why her ass hurt.

If it wasn’t for that, I probably would’ve already been balls-deep in my daughter’s rectum, fucking her so hard it made her mascara run.

“Normal” had left the building and was never coming back.

“Fiiiine,” my wife whined. “Fine! But in that case, you have to fuck my pussy.”

I nodded. We only had twenty minutes, tops, and I didn’t want to waste time arguing.

I didn’t even want to argue, truth be told. I wanted to fuck my daughter as much as my wife wanted me to.

In record time, Belle’s body was straddling me. Her knees were on the couch on either side of me, her tits were in my face, and her wet pussy-lips were wrapped around my erection.

“God that feels good,” she groaned, as she began slowly sliding up and down my cock. “Oh, Daddy, you feel so good inside me.”

“Good girl,” I grunted. “You’re Daddy’s good girl.”

“Yessss,” she moaned in response, and I leaned forward to take one of Belle’s nipples into my mouth.

I’d spent countless hours over the course of our marriage sucking and chewing on my wife’s beautiful breasts, but—much like showering together—it wasn’t something I’d yet done with my daughter’s.

The reminder that this was going to end, that this strange mix of torture and agony was only hours away from going away forever…it had lit a strange fire under me.

I hadn’t signed up for what we were doing. When we’d started, no part of me had wanted to engage in even one of the perverse acts I’d partaken in over the last few days.

But I was in too deep (quite literally) now, and…well, I was going to take advantage of what we were doing while it was still happening.

When Monday came, when this mad series of events ended, I knew we’d never do anything like this again. My daughter’s body was going to be forever off-limits—she’d never want to do anything with her father, and even if she did, I couldn’t. The only way I’d been able to justify _any_ of what we’d done was because it was Mary in there, not my daughter.

I was still making love to my wife.

She just happened to be in Belle’s body.

“Oh, fuck!” she cried out as I bit down on her nipple—not hard enough to leave a mark, but firmly enough that I knew it would cause a small sting of pain.

My wife had always loved the feeling, and her reaction confirmed that being inside my daughter’s body hadn’t changed that about her.

“That hurts so good, Daddy,” she pouted, looking down at me as I moved my lips from one breast to the other. “Just like my ass. Oh, you made my ass so sore, Daddy. Your cock made me so sore.”

I didn’t say anything, just rolled her fat pink nipple around my teeth.

“I think I need you to kiss it better,” Mary continued, her words escaping Belle’s lips as a gasp. “Belle needs her Daddy to kiss her ass better. With your tongue…”

My eyes widened at the suggestion. As I’ve mentioned, anal has never been one of my wife’s preferred sexuality activities, so we’d never really explored rimming or salad-tossing or any of the more intimate ass-based activities.

But it seemed she was determined to continue pushing the bar—or perhaps the constant haze of lust she’d been in for the past two weeks had melted her brain and completely eradicated her sexual limits.

“Are you serious?” I said, my cock twitching at the thought. I’d honestly never found the idea particularly erotic…but I guess when you’re inside your daughter’s body, it’s hard to think of anything as taboo.

And in that moment, we were both—in our own ways—inside Belle’s body.

“Uh huh,” my wife replied, nodding our daughter’s head frantically. “Oh, god, Andrew, yes. I want it. I want it so bad. Your tongue in our daughter’s ass. Every time I look at her, I’ll know—we’ll both know—that you’ve tasted it. That you fucked her ass, and then tasted it. Oh, _god_ …”

The perversity of what she was saying was enough to push my wife over the edge, and I felt my daughter’s body twitch in orgasm. I returned my mouth to Belle’s left breast, using my other hand on the right to mirror the actions of my teeth and tongue.

After spending twenty years with someone, you get pretty good at making them cum. And as if using her tits as two tuning dials, I expertly manipulated my daughter’s nipples to extend my wife’s orgasm for almost a minute.

When she was done, she looked down at me sheepishly. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” I grinned back.

“You didn’t cum.”

I smiled. I’d gotten pretty good at controlling my own orgasm as well.

“I thought we could finish this in the shower,” I said, grabbing my daughter’s hips and moving her off me. “I want to shower with you. And while we’re there, I thought I could have a snack…”

* * *

The completed version of Mad Monday is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 53

By the time Belle and Ben got home, three things were clean: me, my daughter’s body, and every part of her asshole that my tongue could reach.

I had never eaten ass before, and had been surprised by how weirdly hot the taboo nature of it was. Even ignoring the fact that it was my _daughter’s_ ass, it felt inherently _wrong_. Like the mouth wasn’t supposed to go there, you know?

My cock never softened as my tongue probed Belle’s rectum, going deep into the hole my cock had entered for the first time just a day earlier.

I was so hard, and felt like I could have kept tonguing her asshole out forever—the only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that our kids were going to be home soon, and my desire to get off (and get cleaned up) before they did.

Taking advantage of the fact we were in the shower together, I came onto my daughter’s tits and face; a long, shuddering orgasm, the tart taste of her butt still fresh on my tongue.

I managed to get dried off and redressed just in time for my son and my wife’s body to re-enter, Morris’s Famous Pizza in-hand.

Mary came downstairs after half an hour, perfectly playing the part of the reluctant daughter, as if only rejoining us because the smell of food had lured her in. Belle didn’t say anything about her earlier behavior, thank god—Mary and I had been so distracted while they were gone, we’d forgotten to swap stories.

Instead, Belle just acted as though nothing was amiss. Several times as we ate, I caught my wife’s body smiling around at everyone.

It seemed that our daughter had missed family time as much as we had. She’d just needed a nudge to realize it.

“This has been so much fun,” she said, as the last of the pizza was scarfed down by the bottomless pit that was our teenage son. “We should hang out again tomorrow. Make up for the Family Day that Ben missed.”

“’Kay,” he replied nonchalantly. I suspected that Ben wanted nothing more but to catch up on all the Pokemonning he’d missed while at camp, but he was a good kid. Not the kind to cause a fuss.

Just like Belle at that age.

“Sounds good,” I said cautiously. Part of me wanted to refuse, suggest that I take Belle out to the cabin for the day. Somewhere that I could fuck her all day long with no chance of being caught; take full advantage of our last day in these unique circumstances.

But that wasn’t why we were doing this. We were doing this to reconnect with our daughter, to save our family. And if Belle was suggesting _more_ family time—instead of doing whatever she could to get out of it—then it was working.

My daughter’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my god,” Mary said in a single breath. “Let’s have another day at the beach!”

“Good idea,” Belle replied, before I had a chance to react. “How does that sound, Ben?”

“Fine,” he said with a half-shrug. “Whatever.”

“Andrew?” my daughter said. “Are you okay?”

“Mm-mm,” I replied. “Sounds…sounds good.”

Apparently I had not been able to hide the panic that flooded my body at the idea. When we’d visited the beach a week ago, my daughter’s body had been wearing one of the skimpiest bikinis I’d ever seen…and both Belle and her mother had loved every second of it.

This would be the ultimate test. If Belle was still okay with Mary showing off her skin, parading in front of strangers while barely clothed, then it hadn’t worked. Two weeks hadn’t been enough time.

Maybe I could convince Mary to extend it, to spend another week in her daughter’s body. Another month…another year.

But if Belle saw it our way, if she agreed that strutting around half-naked wasn’t appropriate…and if she could convincingly explain why…

Then maybe it would have all been worth it.

“Beach day, beach day!” my wife sang out, bounding my daughter’s body up the stairs. We sent Ben to dump all the pizza boxes into the recycling bin, and as soon as we were alone, I turned to Belle, a look of concern in my eyes.

“Honey,” I said softly. “She’s going to want to wear that bikini again.”

My wife’s eyebrows rose, but I couldn’t read her expression. Was that a look of excitement, or dread?

So often over the last eleven days, those emotions had come as a unit.

Before she could say anything, Belle’s body had returned downstairs, still singing the “beach day” song. A few minutes later, Ben was back as well, clamoring for dessert.

I’m not much of a chef, but I make a mean banana split, and soon the four of us were enjoying the mix of icecream, sprinkles, whipped cream and fruit that I’d clumsily scooped into bowls for my family.

“This is delicious,” Mary said, our daughter’s eyes twinkling wickedly in my direction. “Is it the best thing you’ve eaten today, Daddy?”

I tried to hide my reaction at the term, but no one seemed to blink an eye at her use of a diminutive that the real Belle hadn’t used in almost a decade.

“Not even close,” I replied with a smile. “Not even close.”


	Chapter 54

It was still dark when I awoke the next morning.

I say “awoke” as though it was a passive thing. No; I was most firmly _awoken_ , and after a few seconds of disorientation, I immediately knew who was behind it.

“Good morning, honey,” I said sleepily.

My wife took my cock out of Belle’s mouth, and I heard a lustful “Good morning, Daddy,” in response.

I reached down, grabbed her long blonde hair, and firmly moved it back onto my cock. I heard a satisfied moan, and soon I could once again feel my daughter’s lips and tongue performing the best blowjob I’d ever woken up to.

Possibly the best blowjob of my entire life.

I grunted softly as I came down Belle’s throat. My wife brought our daughter’s body out from under the bedsheets a few moments later, her eyes soft with want. I was surprised to see that she was wearing nothing but the skimpy bikini she’d paraded around the beach a week earlier.

I glanced at the clock. It was four-thirty in the morning—normally being up at such an hour would be tantamount to torture for me (I’m a bit of a night owl), but I knew why she’d woken me up so early.

This was it. The last day my wife was going to be inhabiting our daughter’s body. After this, my relationship with Belle would return to normal…

At least, I desperately hoped it would return to normal. Ever since the body swap, I felt like things had been spinning more and more out of control, culminating in the last few days of wild, almost non-stop sex.

My wife and I had always had a healthy sex life, I want to make that very clear. But even at its peak, we’d never been having sex at this rate. Twice a day, if not more—I knew it wasn’t something I could keep up.

But god damn did it feel good.

I understood that it was wrong to lust after my daughter’s body, I truly did. I’d done everything I could to avoid doing anything sexual; I’d negotiated, compromised, put my foot down.

Nothing had worked. And as I’d gone further, I’d become more and more caught up on the insane sexual ride that my life had become.

Two weeks ago, kissing my daughter’s lips had been unthinkable. Last night, I’d spent twenty minutes with my tongue in her ass…the same ass I’d cum into just a day earlier.

It couldn’t go on. It wasn’t sustainable.

And tonight, it would end.

The last two weeks had been the most wild, intense, deeply sexual period of my life. I’d had the best sex I’d ever had…probably the best sex I _would_ ever have.

I tried not to think about that.

“Come here,” I murmured, bringing my daughter’s mouth to my own, and kissing her passionately. When this had started, I’d tried to imagine that I was kissing my wife…no, my wife’s sister. What had I called her, Tina?

Now, I knew exactly what I was doing. My tongue was exploring my own daughter’s mouth. She was mine. For one more day, I owned her.

Belle was my little girl, and—as long as my wife was inside her—my personal sex toy. My slut.

“Look at what you’ve done,” I growled, moving Belle’s hand back to my cock. I was hardening again, despite having just cum a few minutes earlier, despite having gotten off more in the last few days than I thought was even possible.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” my wife pleaded, opening our daughter’s eyes wide. “Please…I want you to fuck me.”

In response, I just nodded. Mary moved Belle’s body on top of me. It was mostly dark, but even in the dim lighting I could see her huge, perfect breasts, barely constrained by her skimpy bikini.

I watched as she moved the bikini bottom to the side, and slowly lowered herself onto my hardness.

“You’re mine.”

She nodded, gasping slightly as my entire length entered her.

“I’m yours,” she echoed back, her eyes glassy, her mouth contorted with desire. “Yes, Daddy, please…I’m yours.”

It wasn’t long before we’d settled into a familiar rhythm; my daughter’s hips rocking back and forth, her perfect cunt squeezing my cock. I was able to maintain my erection, but I knew that it would be a while before I was able to cum again.

Fucking my daughter may have made me feel like I was two decades younger, but I was still subject to the limitations of the flesh.

A huge smile was on my face as my daughter rode me; I could feel her shivering and twitching with pleasure as her muscular young thighs lifted her body up and down, forcing my cock deep into her soaking wet pussy.

“Everyone’s going to be looking at me, Daddy,” she panted. Her cunt-muscles clenched as she spoke. “Everyone’s going to be look at your slutty daughter.”

“I know, honey,” I moaned. I had no idea why my wife had suddenly developed this proxy-exhibitionist streak, but I couldn’t deny how hot I found it.

“Everyone at the beach,” she gasped. “They’re going to be looking at me. Looking…at…my…tits…”

The last few words came out staccato, and I could tell that she was cumming. My daughter was cumming around my cock. My wife was getting off as I fucked our daughter’s body, while she imagined the eyes of dozens of strangers on her.

“Oh, god,” she panted. Her orgasm hadn’t slowed down her need.

Belle’s eyes opened, and she looked down at me lustfully.

“Are you excited to show me off?” she purred. “Are you excited to see the attention that your daughter’s slutty body gets from everyone at the beach?”

“Mm-hmm,” I said, not sure how to respond. The idea held a strange appeal, but…I suppose I’ve never been great at completely losing myself in a fantasy. Reality always comes knocking for me.

That was probably why I’d been unable to effectively pretend it was my wife’s sister I was kissing.

There was inarguably something hot about watching Mary show off our daughter’s perfect body, her smooth skin, her huge tits. And she wasn’t wrong—if she went to the beach in that bikini…just like last time, everyone would stare.

Everyone would stare, but I’d know that she was mine.

Tomorrow, she’d be my daughter again. Today, she was my slut.

But the purpose of this exercise wasn’t to bring our sexual fantasies to life (especially not ones we’d only had for the past thirteen days). It was to teach Belle a lesson, to get her back onto the right path.

As much fun as it sounded to take Belle to the beach and show her off to everyone (and believe me, it definitely sounded fun), I couldn’t really see how that would help correct her behavior.

I didn’t want to be the one to kill the mood, however, so I just nodded. It seemed that was all my wife needed—she immediately continued, an erotic babble leaving our daughter’s mouth.

“Everyone’s gonna look at me,” she panted. “Everyone’s going to see Daddy’s girl. Daddy’s good girl. Daddy’s almost-naked daughter. What if I were to lose my top? What if I were to go topless, letting anyone who wanted grab me, touch me, grope me…oh!”

Belle’s voice had been getting higher and higher, until finally it cracked, and I could feel her cumming again, coating my cock with her juices.

Just as before, she didn’t stop riding me—she briefly became lucid once more, looking at me with pure lust.

“You’re incredible,” she said in awe, and I smiled up at her.

“You’re mine,” I replied simply. She bit her lip and nodded, letting out a small gasp as I tensed my pelvic muscles, making my cock jump slightly.

“That feels so gooood, Daddy,” Mary said, a smile spreading across Belle’s mouth. “You always make me feel so good…”

“You’re a good girl for Daddy,” I said, and again she nodded earnestly, her eyes never leaving mine. “You’re Daddy’s good girl.”

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned, rocking her hips faster and faster. “I’m Daddy’s good girl. I’m Daddy’s good girl. I’m Daddy’s…”

For the third time in ten minutes, I could feel my daughter’s orgasm. It was exactly what I needed to trigger my own, and I gasped at the sensation of my hot seed leaving my body and shooting into my daughter’s pussy.

“Oh, Daddy…” she moaned, leaning forward and letting me take her hard nipple into my mouth.

I happy chewed and sucked on my daughter’s bosom for several minutes, until my cock had softened enough to fall free of her cum-soaked pussy.

She lay on my chest, and we spent a minute to just appreciate the moment while we still could.

In a little under nineteen hours, everything would be back to normal.

* * *

The completed version of Mad Monday is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 55

“You know you can’t wear that bikini to the beach today, right?” I asked.

Mary had spent the last few minutes with a pout on our daughter’s face, trying to get another round out of me before everyone else woke up.

I’d fobbed her off, telling her—truthfully—that I was but a man. A man with limits.

A man with limits which had been stretched almost to breaking point over the last few days. If I’d expected this to continue, I would have had to make a trip to the pharmacy for a bottle of little blue pills.

But without medical intervention, my cock was done for the morning, so we just lay there chatting, my skin touching hers under the covers. I was naked, and my daughter was wearing nothing except the skimpiest bikini I’d ever seen.

My eyebrows shot up at her response—I’d expected either agreement or an argument. Instead, she just let out a soft moan.

It seemed that just the _idea_ of wearing the revealing outfit was enough to turn her on.

“Mary?” I pressed. “You know that you can’t wear that again, right?”

“But I want to,” she whined. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was doing a perfect impression of our daughter, or if this was her true reaction.

“I’m sure,” I replied flatly. “But…you know you can’t, right?”

Again, my wife’s response was neither affirmative or negative. Instead, she just let out a long sigh.

“I know,” she finally said. “I mean, I _know_. But god, if you weren’t here telling me…I don’t know that I’d be able to stop myself.”

I propped myself up on my elbow and gave her a serious look.

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm,” she groaned. “Frankly, it’s…it’s a little scary. It feels like our daughter’s hormones are the ones running the show.”

“I know the feeling,” I said quietly. My plan had, after all, been to do the bare bare minimum to help Mary get through this. It wasn’t even six in the morning yet, and I’d already released two loads into my daughter.

“And this is with decades of life experience behind me,” Mary continued. “I mean, I _know_ what could happen if she messed up. It’s frankly impressive that she managed to keep her virginity for this long.”

Mary gestured to the teenage body she was temporarily inhabiting.

“This body, combined with these hormones…our daughter has always been someone who knows exactly what she wants.”

I nodded. Belle had been born six weeks premature. She’d been fine, thank heavens, but we’d joked at the time that she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the birth plan. All that mattered was what she wanted…and she’d wanted out!

“What should we do?” I asked. “I mean, that we haven’t done already.”

A smile slowly spread across my daughter’s face, an expression that could only mean one thing:

My wife had a plan.

* * *

“Can you talk to her?” I asked quietly. “I’ve tried, but…well, she won’t listen to me.”

My wife is normally fairly in control of her emotions. I suppose she lets loose a little in the bedroom, but…well, our sex life doesn’t really inspire much beyond “arousal”, “pleasure”, and various flavors of playfulness.

Belle, meanwhile, hadn’t yet mastered keeping her emotions in check. And so in response to my question, I was met with something I hadn’t experienced in many years—a quick succession of expressions on my wife’s face.

Fear, first. No, that might be too powerful a word…nervousness, that was closer. Anxiety.

As far as my daughter was concerned, her consciousness existed in two places at once. Belle had no idea that Mary was the one currently controlling her body; she thought that it was her. The same her she’d been two weeks ago. A copy of the original.

It was almost funny, the realization that being the one who had to get our daughter in line was enough to make _anyone_ nervous. Even Belle herself.

She managed to clamp down on the nervousness within a moment or two, and it was immediately followed by…regret, I suppose. It was clear that she didn’t _want_ to stop her body from dressing in a bikini. Last week, she’d enjoyed it.

But a lot can change in a week, and the final emotion manifested on my daughter’s face in the form of determination.

As I said: when Belle wants something, you’d be a fool to stand in her way.

I could all but see that she was thinking about the police. The sight of her body being shown off to the two police officers (and the subsequent look of lust on their faces) had impacted all of us.

And, as intended, Belle had taken it as a warning sign.

Inside Mary, meanwhile, it seemed to have lit a flame. As our daughter had cum around my cock three times that morning, I wouldn’t have been surprised if my wife had been reliving that moment.

The skimpy outfit. Belle’s innocent expression.

The look of unbridled lust on the cops’ faces.

Me? I also hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, but my reaction was somewhere between the two. On one hand, I couldn’t deny that it had turned me on as well. Knowing that my daughter was so sexy that even two officers of the law were affected by it…but I was the only one who got to fuck her.

It was completely messed up, but so damn hot.

And then the fact that I found it hot was its own special brand of messed up, of course. Freud would’ve had a field day.

But it had served as a wakeup call for me too. If we were going to protect our daughter’s reputation, her future…she couldn’t continue parading herself around the town mostly-naked.

“I’ll talk to her,” Belle said, a familiar note of determination in my wife’s voice. “Leave it to me.”


	Chapter 56

Ben and I were the only ones smiling as we drove to the beach that morning.

My wife had _not_ given in easily. Partially to sell the bit, of course…but I suspected she hadn’t found it difficult to mount a defense.

It’s much easier to come up with arguments in favor of something when you truly are in favor of that thing, you know?

Belle had tried negotiation, she’d tried being reasonable, she’d even offered a treat. But my wife—perfectly in character—hadn’t been having any of it. Mary had (quite effectively) brought up precedent; she’d worn this exact outfit just one week earlier, after all, and received support for doing it!

And then she’d brought in the ever-reliable “You don’t _understand_ ”, “You’re being so _unfair_ ”, and “You’re just jealous!”

And in response, my daughter had grown more and more stubborn.

To my amusement, Belle had even resorted to a classic—“You’ll do it because I said so!” which had been received exactly as well as it always is. My daughter had threatened, she’d cajoled, and I can’t deny that I’d gotten more than a modicum of pleasure out of the fact that she clearly found it just as exhausting as Mary and I always had.

Fighting with someone who won’t be fought with…yeah, it’s very draining. And now she was seeing it from the other side.

It was having an impact. Of that, I was sure.

Finally, a compromise had been reached…but for the two women, it had cast a pall upon Family Day.

And so as we drove to the beach, Ben and I were smiling, while Belle (in Mary’s body) was sitting beside me, one hand to her mother’s temple, her fatigue obvious.

Mary, meanwhile, was sitting in the back, mock-sulking (for show, I could only assume), Belle’s body dressed only in a short denim miniskirt and a tight top—the result of the compromise the two women had reached.

I glanced at Ben—had I been sitting in the back seat next to my daughter, I wouldn’t have been able to resist checking her out. Just the amount of skin on show would have been enough to keep my attention…but, of course, my son wasn’t interested in any of that. To him, she was simply his older sister, not an object of want or desire.

As it should have been.

A part of me still hoped I could get back to that stage when this was all over. The rest of me knew that was never going to happen. I was never going to feel normal again.

“We’re here,” I sung out cheerily, parking the car. The sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Apparently we weren’t the only ones who’d decided to spend such a beautiful day catching some rays; as we walked onto the hot sand, it felt like half the town’s population were there.

I told Ben that he could go play in the water, as long as he stayed safe, which just left me and my two body-switched girls.

The crowds of people included—not unexpectedly—a great many men, and I could sense my wife perking up as Belle’s body began to garner attention from them.

Before long she was two steps in front of us, shoulders thrown back and head held high. Where most people were soaking up the sunbeams, Mary was basking in the barely-concealed lustful stares of dozens strangers.

There was something about the way she moved, I could just tell…she wanted to be naked. More than wanted, she _yearned_ for it. I would have bet anything that my wife would’ve taken on a second mortgage just for fifteen minutes of walking on that beach in our daughter’s body, completely and utterly nude.

All eyes on her bare tits, her naked ass.

Her exposed pussy.

Despite the workout it’d already had that morning, my cock twitched at the idea of it.

And a little at the knowledge of what was going to happen next.

I glanced at Belle—when we’d been here last week, she’d been proud, enjoying the sight of her body being admired. In its own way, it had been an important step; Belle had been able to truly see herself in a way that most of us will never be able to experience:

The way everyone else sees us.

She’d finally understood that she wasn’t the awkward, gawky teenager she’d been a few years ago. Belle had been able to witness her body in its current state: her stunning curves, her huge breasts, her long legs, her pert ass.

My daughter was a walking sex godddess, and—for the first time—she’d been able to see it.

That had been the first step. The second step had been watching the police inappropriately checking her out, highlighting that not all attention is a good thing.

That she wanted to be seen as more than just an ass and a pair of tits.

And the third step? Well, the expression on my wife’s face told me that we’d landed that as well.

Belle didn’t look proud, not this time. Instead, she…well, she looked exactly like my wife truly did when she watched our daughter gallivant around with barely anything on.

Disappointed. Stern.

Disciplinary.

“Belle,” she hissed. “Stay with us.”

“It’s the beach, Mom,” my wife responded, rolling our daughter’s eyes. “I’m not going to spend the whole time at your side like a poodle.”

“Well, just…stay where we can see you, okay?”

Mary turned around, a very convincing look of disdain on our daughter’s face.

“Wait. Ben can go straight to the water, but you’re putting me on a leash?”

“Just don’t go too far,” I interjected. I’m known for my attempts to break up fights before they began. “Don’t leave the beach. And be careful!”

With everyone else gone, exploring the beach and playing in the crowds, I took the opportunity to talk with my daughter without her knowing I knew it was her. I knew it would be one of the last times I’d ever have the chance.

She was distracted at first, trying to keep an eye on her body as my wife weaved it in and out of the mass of people, striking up conversations with everyone from teenagers her age to men older than my father.

I knew what she was doing, of course. She wasn’t exactly being subtle about it. She’d stand with her hands behind her back, one leg in front of the other, showing off our daughter’s assets, teasing them just as she’d teased the two policemen…and me, countless times in the past week.

And perhaps just because of how well I know my wife, or perhaps because I’d spent so much time over the last few days staring at my daughter’s body, I could tell that it was turning her on. There was a little extra sway in her hip as she walked, and I swear I spotted her clenching Belle’s perfectly-toned thighs with arousal whenever someone checked our daughter’s body out.

My wife was turned on, and not even trying to hide it.

But after a few questions, Belle turned her attention back to me, and we began to catch up properly.

“How do you think Belle and Ben are getting along these days?” I asked, and I couldn’t help but smile at how quickly and confidently she answered.

“I think they’re in a good spot. Belle has hit that age where…perhaps she can appreciate family in a way she couldn’t before.”

The conversation drifted from topic to topic, and every answer my daughter gave just further confirmed it:

We’d done it. My wife’s crazy plan had worked. For the first time in years, I truly felt that…Belle was going to be okay. She’d matured and grown so much in just two weeks. I had to tip my hat to my wife—she really knew what she was doing.

And then, just as I was opening my mouth to ask what she thought our daughter’s opinion was of her old man, my wife’s body sat bold upright.

“Where is she?” she asked, looking around the beach franticly. “Where’s Belle??”

* * *

The completed version of Mad Monday is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 57

Our local beach is far from huge. It’s just a small patch of sand with rocks on either side. Nothing scary—I remember when I’d been younger, jumping from rock to rock, completely oblivious to the potential risks. One slippery patch and I could have smashed my head open.

Maybe that’s the true curse of growing older: you’re suddenly aware of dangers _everywhere_. It’s much easier to have fun when you don’t spend every moment knowing how close you are to death, weighing up how much closer each and every action will bring you.

And so it only took us a few moments to discover exactly where Mary had taken our daughter’s body.

I was watching my wife’s face as we did, worried I’d see delight, or envy.

But no—to my relief, the sight in front of her evoked the exact mix of emotions we’d hoped it would.

Shock. Revulsion. Protectiveness.

And once more…determination.

As we cornered the rock, moving to the most secluded area of the beach, we found my wife had done exactly what as planned. I’d been skeptical about its feasibility when my wife had proposed it that morning, but Mary was pure confidence…and, as always, she was right.

She had sat our daughter’s body in the middle of four kids the same as as Belle…and was making out with one of them, while the others watched.

Watched, and touched her.

One teen was just running his hand up and down her left leg. Another had his hand on her stomach, and it was obvious that he wanted to move it up and grab my daughter’s tits.

The last was more hesitant—every now and again, he’d reached out and just trace a small pattern on her skin with his nails.

Belle’s body shuddered with delight every time he did. Her miniskirt and top were long gone, and she was donned in nothing but the bikini she’d been wearing that morning when I fucked her.

The same bikini she’d worn when we’d come up with this plan.

I could feel the green-eyed monster rising inside me. We’d worked this out together. We’d unanimously decided we were going to do this. It was all part of a plan—a good plan. A plan I’d signed off on.

But at the sight of Belle— _my_ Belle—making out with a stranger, while others touched and groped her…I really had to fight my desire to march down there and kick his ass. The teenager my wife had chosen to lock lips with wasn’t much bigger than me, I was sure I could take him.

She was _mine_. Not only had I raised her since birth, not only was she made of my DNA…over the last few weeks, I’d taken her every hole as my own. I’d taken her. I’d tasted her. I’d made her cum more times than I could count.

She was mine.

Worse than the sight of my daughter making out with a stranger was the knowledge that it was actually my wife doing it. My loving, faithful wife, was—for the first time since our marriage began—making out with someone who wasn’t me.

And it was very, very obvious that she was enjoying it.

I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t really cheating, that she wasn’t doing it for fun, that this was the best way to help Belle. But even though I understood that intellectually, it didn’t stop the primal instinct from trying to take over my brain.

That was my wife. My daughter. And someone else was touching them.

They were both mine. Mine, not for sharing.

They belonged to me.

“What is she _doing_?” I asked, very aware that I was really at the limits of my acting ability here. Even if I hadn’t been involved in the planning, it was blindingly obvious what she was doing.

But I don’t even know if my daughter heard me—she didn’t answer, just continued to stare in horror at the sight in front of her.

Again, I checked to make sure that it wasn’t envy or lust that my daughter was wearing on my wife’s face, but no—her hesitation clearly didn’t come from want. She was stunned, locked up, as if she couldn’t even process what she was seeing.

It wasn’t until a few seconds later, when the formerly-hesitant boy apparently found his confidence and went to undo my daughter’s bikini-top—triggering another surge of possessiveness within me—that Belle snapped out of it.

“What are you _doing_?” she bellowed, echoing the question I’d just asked her. “Belle!”

My wife looked up, impeccably imbuing our daughter’s face with the look of shock and guilt that she would have worn had if this situation had really happened.

Not that I really think this could have happened without our intervention. Before the switch, my daughter had been dating one person, and she hadn’t even let _him_ touch her. She’d been better at fighting her hormones than her mother, truth be told.

Belle started marching my wife’s body towards her own, and I followed promptly. By the time we reached them, the four kids had scattered, leaving Mary (in Belle’s body) alone in a bikini, her cheeks burning red, the clothing she’d worn on top of it nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell, Belle?” my daughter asked her own body, and I followed her lead.

“Young lady, we are _very_ disappointed in you.”

My wife rolled Belle’s eyes…had we been alone, I would have pulled her over my knee and spanked her for that. I knew my wife was just playing her part, but my daughter had thrown that exact expression at me more times than I could count.

Spanking it out of her would be extremely cathartic…and somehow, I knew my wife wouldn’t complain.

“It’s no big deal,” she grumbled softly. “We were just messing around.”

“You…you…”

I’d never seen my daughter so lost for words before, and I’d certainly never seen my wife’s face splutter like that.

“You were _just messing around?_ ” she finally spat out. “Belle, this is a public beach! Anyone could have seen you be…be _used_ like that.”

My heart skipped a beat at the flicker of lust that appeared on my daughter’s face at that, but Belle didn’t seem to notice.

“No one did,” my wife muttered, and Belle rolled Mary’s eyes.

“Yes, they did!” my daughter responded. “We did!”

A young family rounded the corner, picnic basket in tow. “We should finish this later,” I said quietly, placing my hand gently onto my wife’s shoulder.

Belle instinctively shook it off, but as she opened her mouth to continue her tirade, she realized what I’d just said.

“You’re right,” she said, looking angrily at her own body. “We’ll deal with this at home.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” my wife replied petulantly. “Whatever.”


	Chapter 58

No one was smiling on the car ride home.

My wife was in the back seat, using Belle’s face to stare out the window with the most feorcious scowl I think I’ve ever seen. Our son Ben was sitting beside her, annoyed that the beach trip had been cut off early. I don’t think he even noticed his sister’s change of clothes—I guess the bikini only showed slightly more skin than her previous outfit, but the way Mary wore it…it sure felt like a lot.

Belle was sitting beside me, in her mother’s body. She was trying to act cool and collected, but not doing a great job of it—between her clenched fists, jiggling leg, and occasional sigh of frustration, it wasn’t hard to tell how she was feeling.

And me? I was trying to keep my face as neutral as possible. As far as my daughter was concerned, I needed to seem just as angry as she was…but it was all I could do to stop myself from breaking into a huge grin.

It was working. All of it. The last thirteen days of stress had been completely worth it—in just two weeks, we’d managed to reverse our daughter’s attitude towards so many things

I wasn’t expecting her to suddenly become an honor student when they switched back (although lord knows she has the brains for it), but she would no longer be the nightmare she’d slowly become over the past few years. Hell, she’d been dating a literal drug dealer before Mary had forced a break-up.

After what she’d seen today, she’d turn her life around. I was sure of it.

When we arrived home, my wife immediately stormed inside, stomping Belle’s feet as she did. My daughter glanced at me, wearing a look of concern on Mary’s face.

“Do you want me to talk to her?” I said, and she shook her head.

“No,” she sighed. “No, I think…I think it’ll be better coming from me.”

I’m not a hands-off parent by any means, but heart-to-heart discussions with our daughter had always come more naturally to my wife than to me. And so I gave her a nod, and watched as she made her way into the house, walking the walk of someone who doesn’t really want to get where they’re going.

Under normal circumstances, I probably would’ve made my way to my office and buried myself in work until Mary came in and gave me the post-mortem. But I wasn’t confident that my daughter would be quite so forthcoming with her conversation with “herself”, so—after making sure that Ben was firmly plugged back into his Pokemon game—I sneaked upstairs and pressed my ear against my daughter’s bedroom door.

“Oh, yeah right.”

The sarcastic tone of my daughter was crystal clear. Mary was an adept mimic, at least when it came to Belle’s rebelliousness.

“I’m serious,” my wife’s voice intoned softly in response. “I know I’m pretty old now, but I seriously remember what it was like to be a teenager. Like it was yesterday.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“And so please, believe me—you’re beautiful. More than you realize. And that’s going to bring…attention. Like the kind you had at the beach today.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

“So you need to think about what that looks like.”

“What, so I don’t embarrass you and Dad-d?”

I managed to suppress a laugh. Belle would never notice, but I’d heard it—my wife had gone to say “Daddy”, and had to cut herself off.

“No. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Even through the wall, I could imagine the look on my wife’s face. My daughter had inhabited her body for just two weeks, but already she’d started taking on the weary expressions that we all got when dealing with the immovable force of a teenage renegade.

“The problem is that what you’re looking for, it…it won’t come from them. It doesn’t cpme with attention from strangers, or causing trouble. It won’t come from Spike, or any boy. You want to be wanted, you want to feel confident in your body. None of that comes from external validation…it has to come from within. You’re beautiful, Belle, inside and out. I just hope that you learn to see it, sooner rather than later.”

I swear, the smile on my face could have lit up a dark room. Sure, the speech had been a little corny, but it wasn’t bad coming for a teenager…especially a teenager who had seen it as her God-given duty to show off her body and cause as much trouble as possible just two weeks earlier.

From within the room I could hear reluctant agreement from my wife, and I slipped back downstairs with a smile.

When my wife’s body rejoined me, she looked like the stress had completely melted away. I tilted my head to the side inquisitively, and she nodded in response.

“I think I got through to her,” she said with a smile, and I took her hand.

“I really think you did,” I agreed.

* * *

The completed version of Mad Monday is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 59

When my wife joined us, she’d changed, dressing Belle’s body in something much more presentable—a pair of white leggings and a pale yellow T-shirt. Part of me wondered if she was still wearing the bikini under it, but I tried to act as I would if everyone was in their original bodies, and not pay my daughter’s choice of clothing any particular attention.

I just wished my cock would do the same.

Dinner passed uneventfully, and Belle was collecting the dishes when she asked it.

“Can we go for a drive, Dad?”

I tried to keep a straight face as I responded. “Just the two of us?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Like we used to, back when we had the white car.”

At a glance, I couldn’t see any suspicion on my wife’s face—I had often taken Belle for one-on-one drives when she was younger, in an attempt to make sure she didn’t resent all the attention we were giving her brother. He’d had a minor medical condition at the age of five, and it had required a lot of time and hospital visits to deal with.

My daughter and I had driven around, enjoying long (often inane) chats, talking about everything from her friends at school to our specific and detailed preferences between McDonalds and Burger King.

“That okay with you, honey?” I asked nonchalantly, and my daughter (in her mother’s body) looked up.

“Fine by me,” she smiled. “I’m sure Ben will keep me company.”

Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but be filled with joy at the sight of Belle voluntarily spending time with her younger brother. Just a year ago, she’d been at his throat every chance she got.

My wife’s stupid, crazy, impossible plan had worked.

And I suspected that she wanted to be rewarded for it.

Sure enough, as soon as we got into the car, she moved Belle’s hand to my thigh.

“Where are we headed?” I asked, as innocently as I could.

“The cabin?” she replied breathily. “Unless you can think of somewhere closer. God damn it, Daddy…I need you inside me. Now...”

I gulped, and began to drive cabinward.

As soon as we were out of our neighborhood and away from the busy roads, my daughter’s hand moved up my thigh, undid my pants, and pulled out my thickening cock. “Mary,” I growled warningly.

I don’t really know what I expected—if nothing else, the last two weeks had taught me exactly how little control I had over my wife’s behavior.

“Yes, Daddy?” she responded, batting her eyelids.

“We’ll be at the cabin in thirty-five minutes,” I told her firmly. “Wait until then.”

“I don’t think I can, Daddy” she said, my daughter’s voice a shuddering sigh. Before I could respond, she’d unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over to take my cock into Belle’s mouth.

I opened my mouth to complain, but as ‘road head’ was added to the list of first-time sexual experiences I’d had with my daughter, my voice died in my throat, and I tried desperately to focus on the road and do everything I could to avoid being pulled over, or worse—crash.

I hope an obituary won’t need to be written about me for many, many years…and I certainly don’t want it to start with _Found with his dick in his daughter’s mouth, Andrew P. Rodgers was…_

“Good girl,” I gasped, as Belle’s tongue did its magic. “Oh, god...you’re Daddy’s good, good girl…”

We didn’t make it to the cabin.

“Fuck!” my wife cried as I slowly slid my hardness inbetween our daughter’s legs.

I hadn’t wanted to cum while driving, and so as soon as we left town, I’d turned down a series of roads, until finding somewhere to park beside a paddock, on a road so remote it didn’t even have street lights. We’d moved into the back seat (we’d taken the ‘big car’) and I’d been delighted to discover that even under her new outfit, my daughter _was_ still wearing the bikini.

“You’re Daddy’s good girl,” I panted. “You did so good today. I’m so proud of you.”

“Mmm-hmm,” my wife vibrated in response. Even in the dark (I’d made sure to disable the car’s internal lights) I could see her eyes were wide with need.

“We got our daughter back,” I said with a satisfied sigh, as my pubic hair met Belle’s pussy-lips. “We did it.”

“And now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Fuck me…” my wife mewled in response, and I smiled, acutely aware that this was going to be the last time. The last time I fucked a teenager.

The last time I fucked my daughter.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips against Belle’s, revelling in the inherent _wrongness_ of what we were doing. I’d spent the last weeks trying to justify it, to convince myself that I’d done it for all the right reasons. For my family. For my wife.

For Belle.

But if this was going to be our last time, I wanted to enjoy it.

My wife groaned, and I could feel my daughter’s tongue slipping into my mouth. I sucked on it, reaching down to grab one of her huge, firm tits.

“I want you so bad,” I groaned. “God…”

“Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck your daughter. Fuck your slutty, exhibitionist, whore of a daughter…”

“You’re Daddy’s little whore,” I said with a gasp. “You’re mine. All mine.”

“Yessss…”

“I can fuck you anytime I want.”

“Please, Daddy. Use me. Anytime…”

“I can use any of your holes to dump my cum into, because I own you…”

“You own me…”

Despite having cum twice already that morning, it felt like just minutes after I slide my hardness into my daughter’s wet pussy before I felt my orgasm approaching. I’d slid so far into the dark nature of what we were doing, and given myself over to the perverse situation with total abandon. There was nowhere left to go, no further depths to plumb.

Or so I thought.

I’ve mentioned many a time that my wife has an endless capacity to shock me. And the words that came out of her mouth next managed to do exactly that.

“What if I were to switch us back right now?” she asked breathily. “And your daughter came back into her body to find her father pounding his big, thick cock inside her…”

My eyes widened in shock. “Mary,” I gasped.

She shook her head. “Belle,” she replied with a purr. “Belle-drop. It’s me. Your daughter. You’re fucking your own daughter...”

“Oh, fuck,” I moaned. “Belle...”

“Yes, Daddy,” she hissed. “Fuck me. Fuck your little girl. I need you. I need you so bad...”

“You’re mine. You’re my little slut.”

“I’m yours.”

I leaned forward, forcing my tongue into Belle’s mouth, taking her as my property, grabbing her perfect tits, trying to memorize every sensation.

At the feeling of my daughter’s pussy spasming in orgasm, my own climax arrived as well.


	Chapter 60

The next morning was a Monday.

I awoke, as I had for the past fourteen days, to an empty bed. Though it was nice to actually wake up beneath the blankets (my wife nocturnally steals them—I’ll often wake up to find her completely cocooned in bedsheets, while my side is a relative desert) I was very much looking forward to once more going to sleep with my wife in my arms.

After our mutual orgasm last night, I wish I could say that we’d driven straight home and had an early night.

But even after the darkest, twisted, and most satisfying sex of my life…I wanted more.

We both did.

We’d gotten out of the car, fully intending to go home. But then my wife had planted our daughter’s lips on mine, and…god, I don’t know. Something about feeling her mostly-naked body writhe under mine, in the cool night air, knowing that anyone driving by could see it…

I bent her over the hood of the car, and fucked her into a puddle. I hissed into her hear that she wasn’t allowed to switch back, that she was going to stay in our daughter’s body for the rest of her days. That she was going to be my sextoy forever, that I’d never stop fucking her.

That I’d never stop fucking our daughter.

If a policecar had been cruising by with its lights off, I have no doubts that it would have caught us in the act. My pants around my ankles, my daughter completely naked (I’d ripped her bikini off in the heat of passion) as I drove my aching cock into her, again and again.

It was almost half an hour before I came, the sound of my daughter’s pleasure filling the country air. It was hard to believe that something so wrong could feel so exquisitely _good_ , but I couldn’t deny it—the feeling of my daughter’s naked body wrapped around mine, the tremors that passed through her as she repeatedly climaxed, and the knowledge that I was partaking in perhaps the most perverse act possible…

When I did cum again, it rippled throughout my body, all the way to my toes.

I’m sure that my wife could have gone for another round. And another, and another, and another. But I felt, in the best way possible, like I’d just had my soul sucked out through my cock, and I knew that we had to call it a night.

As we pulled into our driveway, I glanced around, and leaned over to give my wife (in my daughter’s body) a kiss.

“I guess this is it,” I said with a half-smile.

“I guess so,” Mary replied sadly, and we went inside.

Ben was asleep, but Belle (in her mother’s body) was still up, and she greeted us with a smile.

“I remember those drives,” she said nostalgically, before catching herself. “I mean, um, I remember when you used to go on them.”

“It feels like a lifetime ago,” I replied softly, and she nodded.

“I’ll bet the drive tonight was very different than they used to be.”

I didn’t have a response for that, but—to my relief—she didn’t seem to need one, and I went upstairs, to sleep alone for—I hoped—the last time.

When I made my way downstairs on that crisp Monday morning, I found my wife and my daughter sitting at the breakfast table, chatting. I stood for a moment, trying to work out if she’d done it, if Mary had switched them back.

She had to have. Of course she had to. It was the right thing to do. It was the _only_ thing to do.

Last night’s discussion had just been dirty-talk. If she’d done it, if she’d kept Belle’s body just so I could keep on fucking her, that would be…unconscionable.

Continuing to take our daughter’s body indefinitely would be wrong. And if nothing else, I think it would make my cock drop off from exhaustion.

Belle’s arms stretched, pushing her huge tits out, and the sight made my cock pulse.

“Good morning, sweetie-pumpkin,” my wife’s voice said, and she leaned over to kiss me on the cheek…

…and give my cock a quick squeeze.

Ah, yes. They had definitely switched back.

Which meant that I’d just started to get hard from the sight of my actual…

“Good morning, hotcake,” I replied, and sat down for breakfast, refusing to think about it.

My tension slowly began to fade as we ate together as a family, and I realized that none of us were playing a role. My wife was my wife, my daughter was my daughter, and I no longer had to watch my every word for fear of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.

But just as much, it was…nice. Pleasant, but so casually so, it was hard to even identify why. The meal itself was nothing fancy—bacon, eggs, toast, and my wife’s homemade hash browns (oh how I’d missed my wife’s cooking) and the conversation was completely ordinary; Ben had a recital coming up, Belle (perhaps because she’d missed two weeks of classes) was worried about her upcoming exams…

But it was a casual pleasantness that I’d been missing for year, and I found it every bit as fulfilling as the simple meal Mary had prepared.

When Belle came home from school (a few hours before the rest of the family—Mary works until five, and Ben attends some kind of computer club) she came to visit me in my office.

To my horror, my cock began to harden as soon as she poked her head around the door. I have no idea what my daughter made of the shocked look on my face—she had just been popping in to borrow a phone charger.

I lent her mine and sent her away, mentally hissing at my cock to go down.

By the time Mary returned home a few hours later, I was practically climbing the walls. I’d grown so used to having my balls emptied several times a day, not getting laid between midnight and dinnertime felt like a cruel and unusual punishment.

She gasped at the intensity of my kiss—Ben and Belle were in the living room (watching television together—again, a small change, but one that confirmed to me that we’d done the right thing) so I didn’t hold back, running my hands up and down her body as my tongue forced its way down her throat.

“Well now,” she said in a low voice, her eyes alight with lust. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve missed you,” I growled back, and realized as I did…it was true.

Until that moment, I hadn’t realized, but a part of me had been worried that the experiences of the past few weeks would have reduced my attraction to my wife.

Mary is a true stunner, but…well, my daughter was something else.

To my relief, I was just as attracted to my wife as I’d ever been, and I was genuinely excited to get her into bed, and my aching cock into her.

“I’ve been here all along,” she replied, batting her eyes at me.

“Sure,” I replied, moving my mouth to her neck. “But not all at once.”

“Mm-hmm,” she gasped in reply, her fingers digging into my ass as I bit her neck, determined to leave a hickey.

She didn’t say anything else until I was inside her, pounding into her as hard as I could, grabbing her hair, dominating my wife, groaning loudly as I did.

It wasn’t my daughter. She wasn’t quite as tight, or as wet, or as flexible. But, on the plus side, _it wasn’t my daughter_.

“God,” I panted. “I love you so much.”

“Mmmm,” she replied, so softly I almost didn’t hear her. “I’m all yours. God, yes. Thank you...Daddy.”


	Epilogue

The kids were in bed, and my wife was waiting for me in the bedroom.

I’d fucked my wife in the front hallway. I’d grabbed her hair and bent her over, fucking her as Belle and Ben watched television just two rooms away.

When I came inside her, she groaned, but not loudly enough for the kids to hear.

I hoped.

That had been enough to satiate me temporarily, but as we’d gone into the living-room to watch a film as a family, I’d hardly taken my hand off my wife’s ample ass for a second.

Whipping the sheets off the bed, I was delighted to see that my wife was naked. While her body was not as young, toned, or firm as our daughter’s, it was so familiar. Comfortingly so.

And still very, very attractive to me.

I took my shirt off as quickly as I could, and soon I was laying on top of her, both of us as naked as we’d been on our wedding night, decades earlier.

“Oh, Daddy…” my wife moaned. “Please, Daddy…”

“You’re my good girl,” I muttered in response. “You’re Daddy’s good girl…”

“Use my toys,” Mary gasped, and I reached out to open the drawer beside our bed and pull out the two little bullet vibrators I like to use on my wife.

The drawer was empty.

“Oh, shit,” Mary said, sitting up so fast that she almost slammed her forehead against my nose. “ _Fuck_.”

My mouth fell open as I realized what had got her so agitated.

When my wife had been in Belle’s body, she’d taken the bullet vibrators with her.

And she’d forgotten to bring them back.

The two of us stared at each other for several moments, wide-eyed, until a grin slowly crept across my face.

“What??” Mary said, shooting me a glare. “What’s so funny?”

“Well,” I said with a chuckle. “Who knows…maybe they’ll help her manage her hormones.”

My wife’s glare turned into a grin, and soon she joined my laugh.

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But if she asks where they came from…”

“I know _nussink_ ,” I replied, doing my best Schultz impersonation.

“Good,” she said, laying back down on the bed. “Because if she ever works out what happened…”

My cock thickened as I tried not to think about our daughter, one floor below us, using her mother’s toys to get off, her perfect body writhing in ecstacy, with no idea that just twelve hours earlier I’d been inside her…

Positioning my hardness at my wife’s entrance, I slowly pushed forward.

“Oh, _Daddy_ ,” my wife groaned with lust.

I closed my eyes. It made it easier to picture Belle…

* * *

Thanks so much for reading this twisted tale of love and lust. It never would have been possible without my patrons. The sequel to Mad Monday — “Topsy-Turvy Tuesday” — will be exclusive to my Patreon.

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